Rom To My Private Dungeon
by Gina R Snape
Summary: Severus Snape takes on a female intern for the summer, and learns a few things as well. NOTE: "Rom" is not a 'typo' of Ron. This is a het fic, and has been altered from the versions on and SHx to comply with guidelines. Warning: Not a h
1. The Plan

Rom To My Private Dungeon By Gina R Snape  
  
*** Disclaimers:  
  
This story takes place in the wizarding world belonging to JK Rowling. Severus Snape, Hogwarts, and the rest of its faculty, residents, animals et al. belong to her. I make no profit except the emotional joy of writing-and being reviewed. :) However, Maracuja Feuer and her fictional relatives, along with this story, belong to me. In an interview, JK Rowling expressed her joy at finding fan fiction based on her Harry Potter series. Like finding Christmas, I believe she said. So, thanks JKR for your magical world, and your approval of Harry Potter fan fiction.  
  
This story will contain some steamy chapters ahead. It is not a PWP. It will have a storyline. But if you are offended by reading about sexual acts between consenting adults of any gender, look elsewhere.   
  
A/N: This story takes place at the end of book one (Philosopher's Stone/Sorcerer's Stone). However, it is written with the full knowledge of the wizarding world as we know it after book 5. Including people, skills, animals, etc. So, if you haven't read Order of the Phoenix, go do so now!  
  
****   
  
The Leaving Feast was coming to a close and the children began wandering back to their houses. Most members of the faculty were wandering off themselves. Dumbledore, McGonagall and Snape looked at each other with a collective sigh of relief.   
  
Softly, Dumbledore sighed, "I miss them every year. Yet, I am ready for the break." He paused, and then quickly looked at Severus with a twinkle in his eye and added, "This summer will be different."  
  
"I dare say, Albus, that this job has gotten quite a bit harder with the arrival of Mr. Potter." McGonagall responded.   
  
Snape laughed a hard breath and stood up. "That is the understatement of the year, Minerva." He retorted in barely a whisper. Looking quickly at Dumbledore and McGonagall, he made a slight and almost polite smile, and then went to turn down the stairs to his right.   
  
"Severus," Dumbledore's voice quickly rose up, "before you go. Remind me of your summer schedule and the arrival of your guest."  
  
"Ah, yes. My, er, guest," Snape replied, "will be arriving with the Hogwarts express tomorrow morning when it comes to take the children away." She shall remain for the better part of a month and a half and then I'll be taking off just a few weeks to travel and pick up supplies before the beginning of term."  
  
Dumbledore raised his eyebrows. "I must say, Severus, that I am impressed you did not change your mind about taking on an intern, after everything you've been through this year. Please do not hesitate to speak up if it becomes too much for you and you wish to break earlier. Tomorrow seems rather soon to start. You might want to consider taking a few days rest before beginning. Although, something tells me you might be energized by this experience."  
  
"Well, there is tomorrow night, after all." Snape's words came oozing out of his mouth.  
  
"Why yes." McGonagall quickly added, blushing and looking down at her tea.   
  
"True, true." Dumbledore smiled. "See you tomorrow then. Sleep well."  
  
By this time, the great hall was empty. The other faculty and staff had all gone off to bed or were strolling the grounds for a last minute round up--to make sure none of the 6th and 7th years were wandering back from Hogsmeade after one too many of something a little stronger than butter beer.  
  
The day after the Leaving Feast was always a tumultuous one. Prefects did a lot of work getting the kids packed and off to the Hogwarts Express. But the heads of the houses were never far away. No matter what time the Hogwarts Express arrived, or how early the children were woken up, it always seemed to take forever while the train waited patiently in the station for the last student to finally board.   
  
Sending children off was not the only hassle of the day. No, there was plenty of paperwork. Compiling grades, sending them off by owl post to the parents, putting last minute notes in students' files, etc. It seemed like end of term was more exhausting than any other point. That's why the teachers always held their own special event after the children were gone. Dumbledore would hire someone to perform or dj music. A smaller chamber just off the great hall would be transfigured into a nice little party setting-dance space, cosy couches in dark corners, a buffet table and a bar to one side. All of the faculty and their significant others would attend, along with other invited dates or guests. It was a highlight actually, and not a faculty obligation, as the party was usually a lot of fun. With no children around, they could all cut loose and break from their authority figure roles. No worries about stumbling back to their chambers intoxicated and running into some pesky students wandering around after hours. "No Potter in his invisibility cloak" thought Snape with some relish. Snape, ever the skilled potions master, always volunteered to tend the bar. He never failed to whip up just the right brew to inspire the most exquisite festive feelings to flow through their veins.  
  
Most teachers took off afterwards, to enjoy their summer holidays travelling, with family, etc. A few stayed on at the castle and tended to their own advanced research and publishing. This year Snape had agreed to take on an intern-apprentice. A muggleborn student from Romania who showed much talent had written to Snape personally after reading some of his published works. She came with high recommendations from her professors, having recently graduated from Durmstrang with honours a few years earlier. He was touched. While many in the wizarding world respected Snape's vast store of knowledge and practical application skills, he seldom received requests for individual study. Rarer, still, from a female. Student perceptions of his personality seemed to pervade the academic world, even if his colleagues knew him better. There was also something about the field of potions that seemed to repel females in general. "Merlin knows what to expect" was the last thing to float through Severus' mind as he drifted off to sleep.   
  
*** A/N: Maracuja is a flower, also known as Passion Flower. Among its uses are as an anti-depressant, anti-inflammatory, and hypnotic. Feuer is German for fire (pronounced like foyer).   
  
Special thanks to my lovely and talented betas: Lucy, Louvain Woodmass and Elizabeth Vegvary, whose talents and assistance have gone far beyond looking for typos.  
  
I appreciate constructive criticism. Please send any feedback to grosich@nyc.rr.com Thanks! 


	2. The Arrival

***   
  
So it was that Snape rose early the next morning and made his way to Hogsmeade before the onslaught of exiting children overtook the train station. The last thing he wanted was to appear to be gently ushering children off, with smiles and waves and warm fuzzy sentiments. Nor did he want to keep his new apprentice waiting.   
  
Snape felt surprisingly nervous as he walked, but wasn't sure why, and certainly didn't show it. Despite her academic references, he really wasn't sure what to expect. His mind wandered. Would this be a long, frustrating summer with some pathetic and lonely young academic who had no life? Or, as he hoped, was this an opportunity to pass on his knowledge in a way that eluded him during the normal course of term. Dumbledore knew him well, he thought. To share his knowledge meaningfully would be to share the deepest thrills of his soul with someone possessing the keen mind and academic prowess he himself demonstrated in his youth. Was this that opportunity?   
  
It was a warm and breezy day. Snape's hair gently brushed his face in the wind. His black summer-weight cloak billowed gently behind him as he approached the platform. Sitting quietly on a bench was a young woman of about twenty-four years--thin, lithe, pale, but with distinctive features and long flowing shiny black hair. Snape gasped as he regarded her for a moment. She looked up and piercing black eyes went right through him. The young woman stood. She was tall and delicate, but emanated great strength. Like him, she wore all black, with a silk cloak draped over her shoulders. Pointed black shoes elegantly peeked out at the tips. The only colours to be found on her were rich ruby lips and small gemstones of red, green and deep blue set in the silver rings on her fingers.   
  
Severus' heart starting pounding uncomfortably as a tumult of emotions began to swirl within him. But again, he did not show it. "Ms. Feuer I presume?" was all he could manage. The young lady held out her hand and, without thinking, Snape bent and kissed it.   
  
"Professor Snape, I, I" she bashfully replied, then more smoothly, "it is sheer pleasure to finally meet you, in the flesh." The slight hint of an accent could be detected.   
  
Both strode quietly side be side towards the Hogwarts campus, Snape muttered a levitation charm and Ms. Feuer's belongings floated ahead of them under his command. No words, but furtive glances gave a kind of nervous communication. The energy between them was palpable. The barest hint of a smile could almost be seen on his face. *** "Maracuja Feuer." It rolled off the tongue in an odd but fulfilling, flowing sort of way. Foreign. Bewitching. Snape kept repeating the name over and over again in his head. "Sheer pleasure. . . in the flesh" swirled around too. Her accent and words were certainly beguiling.  
  
Snape brought Maracuja to her chambers-the ones normally granted to the ever-changing DADA professor. Dumbledore was on his search yet again. The apprentice would be long gone before he or she arrived. Fighting the urge to linger, Snape released the charm from her floating belongings and bid her adieu. The sounds of frantic children and heavy trunks, heard throughout the castle, were at least sufficient excuse to draw him away.  
  
Maracuja stood alone in her room and closed her eyes. She hadn't known what to expect. Six weeks could be a short jaunt or an endless torture. But who could tell? Taking a deep breath, she spun around and perused her surroundings. "Might as well unpack and make it home" she thought to herself. The room was nicely furnished, if sparsely decorated. A wardrobe, two wooden dressers, a desk and leather chair, and large four-poster bed with end tables were enough for her. She also noticed a small round table with two wooden chairs near the window. Beyond another door was an adjoining bathroom with a huge claw-footed tub, vanity with a mirror, sink and toilet.   
  
Quickly finding places for all of her belongings, she finished with a swift wave of her wand by transfiguring the drapes, rug and bed sheets to her liking. Colourful scarves draped the furniture. The smell of rosemary now permeated the air. On a tiny shelf above an end table she placed a miniature set of instruments, charmed to play gypsy folk music on their own. Giving a refreshing sigh, she twirled around the room, content with herself and her new surroundings.  
  
"And, mmmm, what about that Potions Master?" she hummed to herself. "I will, to find out his secrets, to penetrate zat exterior, to be penetrated in return. Yes, I think I will."  
  
***   
  
A/N: Thanks to April for her thoughts and advice. Read her fanfiction! http://members.fortunecity.com/ningerbil/hpstory.html 


	3. Almost Business As Usual

***   
  
Once out of earshot of his new arrival, Snape walked briskly back to his office and slammed himself into his desk chair, clearly annoyed with himself. His heart was still pounding. But it was definitely not due to any workout, as the walk back from Hogsmeade was by no means uphill. "This is ridiculous." he thought to himself, and poured a glass of brandy. "I am not a hormonal teenager. I am in control." Closing his eyes, he sank back in his chair for a moment and steadied his breath. Finding all efforts to clear his mind futile, he decided it was probably best to simply make himself useful. At any rate, even the dungeons couldn't drown out the sound of the children. He was bound to be distracted one way or the other.  
  
"Three hours until lunch. That will give me enough time to send off the last of my letters and start work on the potion for the staff party tonight."  
  
And so he did. He vented his feelings into a particularly descriptive letter to Neville Longbottom's grandmother:  
  
It is with considerable restraint that I write to you concerning your grandson   
Neville Longbottom. It is my duty to report that by stint of miracle he shall   
receive passing marks in Potions at 67/100. However, I must include that this   
may only be possible due to the assistance of his 'little friend' Hermione   
Granger. (muttering "insufferable know-it-all" under his breath). I only   
allow them to continue as Potions partners because failure to do so may result   
in even more harm to my dungeon classroom and equipment than the school may   
afford. If it weren't potentially lethal, I'd make additional summer   
assignments. If you can afford it, I recommend a private tutor. And, Mrs.   
Longbottom, with all due respect, I feel your pain.   
  
Thank you for the 6 times you replaced young Master Longbottom's   
cauldron this year. As per the request in your last owl, I will make the very   
rare and, in fact unheard of exception, by allowing you to purchase a non-  
standard thick-bottomed ultra-sturdy cauldron for next year. Against my better   
judgment, I have written to a few of the less-compassionate parents requesting   
they not seek damages for ruined shoes, robes and potions lab equipment, etc.   
Although, I should warn you that in some cases the costs are so high that my   
entreaties may go ignored. After all, some families can ill afford to pay for   
their own children's mistakes, let alone be yoked with the burden of a student   
such as your grandson. Merlin help us all. Enjoy your summer. I am certain we   
shall be in touch next year.   
  
God speed  
Professor S. Snape,   
Potions Master  
  
Mrs. Weasley would get an earful about the twins.   
...Dungbombs...filibusters fireworks...wasted talent on childish pranks...  
you might consider recanting your signature for their trips to Hogsmeade...  
if I catch them in my store room one more time...  
  
Mrs. Crabbe and Goyle would receive recommendations for private tutors for their sons (suspecting full and well that they would not be followed up on).   
...fine boys...true Slytherins...might benefit from some extra attention...  
just a thought...did pass with grade of 67/100 mind...  
  
Mrs. Chang would be apprised of Cho's greater interest in the boys than in the classes.   
...might one day deem herself worthy to pay more attention to lessons   
and less attention to the Quidditch players...compulsively brushes hair   
in class...winds up in her cauldron, ruining all her recipes...  
  
Marcus Flint would receive a very nice letter about his contributions to the Slytherin Quidditch team.   
...a fine, fine boy...can fully appreciate the art of subversive tactics   
on the playing field...made a good show for the name of Slytherin...took   
positive advantage of his slightly lightened homework load...but doing   
well in Potions...75/100...  
  
Lucius and Narcissa would, of course, have nothing to worry about with their darling little progeny.   
My dear friend Lucius,   
I hope this letter finds you and your lovely wife well. It was an   
extreme privilege to watch over your boy this year...exceptional talent   
in Potions...truly exemplified all that Slytherin stands for...sorting hat   
did not even need to pause to consider another house...kept that Potter   
boy in line...marks of 98/100...only one student did better...insufferable   
Granger girl....must've been a fluke...one small favour if you please...no   
charges to the Longbottoms for his ruined shoes and bookbag...bit of a   
headache for me, if you don't mind...  
  
Letters now posted, Severus turned his attention to the party potion. Stiff and unpleasant as many found him to be, none could deny his skills with a cauldron. All things being equal, a friendship with Severus was not needed to enjoy imbibing his libations every year. Snape usually made two versions of "punch" - a fruity variety for the majority, and a more astringent one for those who preferred the taste of liquor. But regardless of the flavour, the secret ingredient was a pinch of ashwinder eggshell powder. The yolk of an Ashwinder egg was well known as the main ingredient in love potions. But he was not using the yolk. Few knew that the right amount of eggshell powder served as a social stimulant. It had the right properties to diminish the unpleasant effects of alcohol (for those who were "bad drunks") and mentally relaxed people to feel less inhibited. Attendees generally preferred using Severus' punch as an alcohol mixer (or drunk on its own), because he also added a touch of bezoar resin, which worked as an anti-hangover agent. Since it was his own private recipe, the end of term party was also the only time those privileged attendees could enjoy it.  
  
Severus went to his private stores and picked up the majority of ingredients. A rumbling in his stomach reminded him that lunchtime was approaching, which was just as well, since he needed items from the kitchen. So he set off to the great hall for a quick meal before acquiring his final supplies. Engrossed as his mind was with the task ahead of him, he had completely forgotten to retrieve his new intern (or did that happen on purpose?). He had meant to show her the way to the great hall, and introduce her to everyone. He'd meant to give her a tour of the castle, knowing how easily one could get lost in it. And though his intentions were all well and good, they were, alas, not fulfilled. He was painfully reminded of this as he waltzed into the great hall and found himself torn from his reverie. His skin turned ashen and his pulse raised a few beats at the sight of Maracuja amiably chatting with Dumbledore. "Ah, Severus!" Dumbledore jovially announced his arrival. "Ms. Feuer was just telling me the most fascinating story about the magical properties of apples."   
  
"Fascinating, I'm sure." He responded dryly. "Next you'll be telling me not to eat any offered from a snake. Muggle superstition, no?"  
  
"How very droll." Maracuja injected with a sly smile. "No one told me you were funny."   
  
Of all the possible reactions Snape might have anticipated, this one was not on the list.  
  
*** 


	4. A little food, a little wine, a little f...

***   
  
Snape narrowed his eyes and scowled. Yet, Maracuja could detect a faint blush beneath the pallor. "First chink in zee armour." she congratulated herself.  
  
Standing frozen and gobsmacked, Snape considered his possible responses. Another comment? Thank her? Ignore her? Change the subject? But before he could respond, Professor Sprout interjected.  
  
"That was funny? I thought it was rude. Well, I don't think I'll ever understand the humour of you potions people."   
  
Snape glowered in Sprout's general direction and took a seat. Since the usual staff table had been replaced by a single large round one, he could not be spared the comfort of his usual seat at the end-far away from everyone else. Maracuja promptly sat down to his immediate right, with Professor Sprout on the other side of her. Professor McGonagall sat to his left. Other attendees included Madame Pomfrey, Hagrid, and three other summer apprentices.   
  
Food appeared on the table, along with jugs of red wine. Dumbledore raised his glass "A toast, to our newest arrivals. I hope your heads will be full when you leave here. But for now, we'll just focus on the stomach." Everyone smiled and raised their glasses in response.   
  
Snape, having regained his composure, turned to Maracuja. "I trust you found your quarters adequate. My apologies for not escorting you to the Great Hall."   
  
"Oh, yes. Everything is just lovely." She cooed in return. "I feel at home already. As it turned out, the moment I went in search of food, a house elf appeared and showed me the way. Very convenient. Although, I'm not so sure I can find my way back." Maracuja contemplated batting her eyelashes, but then thought better.  
  
"I can show you how to get back." Snape replied cordially. "In fact, I shall show you the whole castle. I feel it is my duty."  
  
"I would greatly appreciate that." She responded.  
  
Professor Sprout, who seemed to be slurping rather loudly and generously from her cup, interjected. "SO. WHERE ARE YOU FROM? YOU HAVE AN ACCENT."  
  
Snape and Maracuja gave each other quick amused looks.   
  
"Celebrating the end of term a bit...early?" Snape condescended. Sprout gave him a dirty look and breathed in Maracuja's face.  
  
Maracuja recoiled slightly, but responded "I am from Romania. I am a Rom." It rolled off her tongue softly. She hoped her tone would give a hint for Sprout to lower her voice."  
  
"A Rom? What's that? Short for Romanian?" she squawked. "Say, I hear there's quite a lot of vampires in Romania, aren't there? I think Professor Snape knows a lot about that. Some people think he is one, you know."  
  
Maracuja let out a small haughty laugh. "Yes, you know, there are many vampires in Romania. But, really, Professor Snape? A vampire? I've heard many things about Professor Snape before my arrival. But, I assure you, at a glance I can see, he is no vampire." She lowered her voice dangerously. "Do you even know anything about vampires?"  
  
Professor Sprout became flustered. "Well, no. I mean, You know. The pale skin. The dark eyes. The..."  
  
"But I have dark eyes and pale skin, Professor Sprout." She came back quickly. "Are you calling me a vampire?"  
  
Snape sat quietly and listened while drawing from his cup. He was amused. No, he was surprisingly pleased with his new apprentice.   
  
"Uh, uh, of course not!" Professor Sprout stuttered. "Oh dear. I didn't mean. I mean, uh. Oh dear." She mopped her forehead with the serviette pitched into her front. "Well, at any rate, welcome to Hogwarts." And with that, she quickly turned to Hagrid on her right, with whom she felt considerably more comfortable.  
  
"Right, so, that got rid of her." Maracuja intoned, a sparkle in her eye.  
  
"Indeed." Snape responded in kind. He furrowed his brow. "Those damned vampire rumours have plagued me for years you know."   
  
"Well, Professor Snape, you look like a healthy human male to me." She smiled,   
  
Was it Snape's imagination that she seemed to choose that exact moment to suck the hollandaise sauce off the tip of her asparagus?  
  
Professor McGonagall turned just then and introduced herself. "I am so pleased that you are here this summer, Ms. Feuer. Professor Snape seldom takes apprentices, you know. It's a pity. He is a very gifted man. I'm proud to call him my colleague. And, I think, he will need something to take his mind off losing the house cup this year. Are you familiar with our house system here?"  
  
"Now, now, Minerva." Snape toyed in return. "Once in seven years is hardly something I need to 'take-my-mind-off-of' as you say. Appreciate your little acquisition while you can. I assure you, it won't remain in your office for long." This time, Maracuja got to sit, amused.  
  
Minerva quickly changed the subject. "So, tell me, a lovely young lady such as yourself, what made you want to come all the way to Hogwarts to spend the summer on potions?" she inquired.   
  
"Professor Snape's reputation, of course." She responded flatly. "I wish to learn from the best."  
  
"I overheard you say you were a Rom? I thought Severus told me you were muggle born." Minerva continued.  
  
Snape raised an eyebrow in Maracuja's direction. He too thought she was a muggleborn.   
  
"Ah yes, well" she answered, a touch of disdain in her voice. "My chief recommendation came from Headmaster Karkaroff. I don't know if you know him. But he is a racist-against my people, and against muggleborns as well. Many in Romania are racist against the Roms. They call us filthy gypsies behind our backs, and often to our faces. They do not respect my people. They do not acknowledge our magical traditions and abilities. But I am very good at what I do. And, of course, not many Roms choose to take a formal magical education. So, he chooses to ignore this 'little fact' about me, and refers to me as muggleborn. I have given up correcting him. What he thinks, it does not matter anyway."  
  
Snape and McGonagall nodded in understanding. But in a flash he realised there was much more beneath the surface of this woman than he expected. His pulse quickened ever so slightly.  
  
"I am interested in studying more, the formal magic of potions. But I am also interested in the deep, old magic of my people. We have many folk recipes and traditions which I think would benefit the larger wizarding world." She continued. "My people shun outside society. So I feel it is my duty to do what I can to bring them our knowledges together. You understand? My English is not always so good."  
  
"Yes, dear. Your English is just fine." Professor McGonagall responded, seeming somewhat impressed.  
  
Snape sat a little straighter and leaned in to her intently. "Hmmm. Interesting that you should say that. I have recently come across some things in my research, which seem at first glance like muggle food recipes. But with magical infusion, they apparently have the capacity to take on other ...properties" He said softly. "I would be interested to see if you know anything about them."  
  
This time, Maracuja's pulse quickened. She knew Snape had much he could teach her, but secretly she'd hoped her internship would provide an opportunity for some mutual research interest. "I would be very, very pleased, if to have a look at these." She smiled.  
  
The rest of the meal passed pleasantly, if quietly. Staff and apprentices chatted away. A quiet hum passed between Severus and Maracuja. But only Dumbledore seemed aware of it.  
  
***   
  
Thanks to April for the reminder about the vampires of Romania. I really hate that theory about Snape. At least Maracuja got to cut someone down about it. Oh, and I know this story is rated R, and you may be wondering why... Not to fear. Things will start to heat up, beginning with chapter 5. 


	5. Make a Little Liquid Magic

***

When the meal was over, the plates were cleared and everyone dispersed without fanfare. Snape and Maracuja left the Great Hall together. He offered to keep his promise and give her a tour of the castle, but Maracuja thought it best to wait until the next day.

"I know, Professor, that you have a potion to prepare." She explained. "Professor Dumbledore told me about the party tonight. I know we don't officially begin until tomorrow, but perhaps you can show me what you are making?"

"A fine suggestion." Snape returned. Though he did not show it, he was actually somewhat relieved.

The two set off for the kitchens, where they picked out the remaining ingredients. Snape introduced Maracuja to a few of the house elves and advised them she would be stopping in now and again for supplies. They then made their way down to the dungeon.

Stealing the occasional glance in her direction as they continued, Snape noticed that Maracuja seemed entranced by the flicker of the lamps in the dark hallways. The further they descended, the more her skin took on an ethereal glow. So well suited she seemed for this environment. Her gait was graceful. She seemed to glide down the stone steps, which urged Snape into a growing sense of nervousness. When they neared his office, Snape swooped ahead to remove the protective wards and opened the door. His robes billowed behind him and swung around as he stopped to hold the door open. He gestured for Maracuja to enter holding the door as though she was a Lady of high standing.

As she descended the last 3 stairs, her footsteps echoed against the stone. It was so very quiet. Maracuja paused at the archway, tfixefixed. Snape's office seemed to pulsate with his energy. It was dark and cavernous. Foreboding. Intense. She took a small step inside, then turned to face him, a little closer than was customary. "I like" she purred. Her eyes lit into his.

Snape could feel her breath on his face, warm and moist. He suddenly realised how very alone they were in his domain. Raising an eyebrow, he oozed. "Just wait until you see what I can do with what's inside." Something in him stirred.

Turning back, Maracuja swooped into his office and started to inspect everything on view, Snape felt terribly conflicted. He was finding himself uncontrollably drawn to this woman. Did he imagine she was flirting with him? Interesting, intelligent, beautiful young women never flirted with him. Only the sad drunken women at the 3 Broomsticks, and the odd lonely Diagon Alley shop keeper ever paid any mind to mean, greasy, horrible Professor Snape. "Control yourself." he thought to himself for the third time that day. "This is supposed to be a professional relationship."

He watched as Maracuja walked to a bookshelf and ran a finger along the spines. She spun around and perused the glass jars, her lips slightly parted in a smile. Her eyes were like saucers as she continued to explore the room. It seemed as though she wanted to take in everything at once.

"I trust my collection is to your liking." he stated more than asked. "My lab is through this door. You may stay here and keep looking if you like."

Snape did not wait for a reply. Instead, he turned and walked through the door towards the cauldrons, which he had readied earlier. The items from his storeroom were lined up on one side of the table. The kitchen ingredients, which the house elves had brought down according to his instructions, sat in a bowl on the other.

Snape pulled out his wand and deftly set knives to chopping some fruits and skinning others. He then picked up another knife and, with his hands, delicately began scraping Ashwinder eggshell into a tiny mortar. The concentration it required to make sure he did not pierce through to the membrane helped to clear his mind. Soon Snape had entered deeply into that other realm, the mesmerising music of the softly shimmering cauldron, the clip clip of a chopping knife, the soft granular friction of the mortar and pestle. Potions making was like a moving meditation for him.

After several minutes, Maracuja silently walked toward the lab. She was taken by the sight of him, and chose to stop and watch him at work. Leaning against the door frame, she folded her arms and considered him attentively. His long, thin fingers seemed so delicate as he wielded the knife. He was bent over the table, his hair falling in his face like two black silk sheets. Maracuja smiled affectionately to herself, watching, as his nose poked out between the part in his hair. Snape seemed completely unaware of her presence.

Maracuja was fascinated, watching the depth of skill those fingers commanded. She was mesmerised. The potions maker in her wanted to watch forever, to pick up techniques, to learn all she could. But she also found herself becoming aroused, imagining what those hands could do to her. A dull warmth began to grow between her legs and spread up to her navel. A delicate chill moved down her spine causing her nipples to harden slightly. Unlike Snape, Maracuja was not conflicted about her feelings. She was not concerned about any professional risk she might incur by initiating something with this man. But she knew by reputation that Snape was a labile man. And yet, behind his ironically sharp and protective facade, she sensed some sadness, some loneliness, and the peace he felt in the potions lab.

She stood there for a long time, allowing her mind to wander around these thoughts. Eventually, the time got later, and the room began to grow cooler. At some point, Snape closed his eyes and stood up straight. Breathing deeply through his nostrils, he licked his lips, extended his arms and leaned back, balling his fists and giving his muscles a stretch. A slight groan escaped his throat. Maracuja took this as her opportunity to enter.

"Pardon me, Professor Snape." She whispered politely.

Snape flinched slightly, theenedened his eyes and looked her way. "Ms. Feuer. Did you enjoy what you saw?"

Maracuja stood frozen, unsure of what to say. His question was suitably vague enough for her to be uncertain if he meant his office, or himself. Considering that he had flinched, she chose to assume he meant the office, but responded vaguely anyway. "Oh, yes. Fascinating. I can see much of interest."

She walked over to the cauldrons and peered inside. They were both bubbling. One smelled fruitier than the other.

"Obviously, these are the elixirs I am preparing for tonight." He gestured. "My own private recipe, in fact." A faintly smug expression on his face.

Interested, she encroached a little closer towards him. "Tell me more." She beckoned.

Snape's stomach clenched, his breathing became slightly shallow and rapid. "This potion is something like the ones I mentioned earlier." He explained. It is more than the sum of its parts. The ingredients will tell you a great deal, of course." He waved his wand and the ingredients appeared on a board he conjured up behind him.

She did not look up at it, but instead kept a steady gaze on Snape's lips as he spoke.

"Once the ingredients have had time to simmer," he continued, a slight hitch in his voice, "you must stir it evenly and smoothly. The chemical composition of the liquid will become receptive to movement and emotion."

Maracuja's eyes met with Snape's, and she nodded in understanding. "Perhaps...you can show me the right stirring technique?" she drawled, her eyelids blinking heavily. She reached over the table and wrapped her fingers around the shaft of a ladle, balanced the curve of the handle on her index finger, and extended her arm so that the utensil was close to his face. The ladle dangled and waved in front of him as Snape stood transfixed, his pulse quickening and his lips slightly parted.

"Of course" he responded, almost coming to his senses. Snape reached out to take the ladle, and as his fingers brushed against hers an electric shock went up his arm. It shot straight to his cock, which twitched in response and grew erect. Snape's face suddenly went expressionless as he fought to regain control. "This won't do at all." he mentally reprimanded himself. "I can't mix this bloody potion now, not in the 'state' I'm in."

"It is not quite finished simmering" he lied, and turned towards the blackboard, willing his prick to settle down. "What do you notice about my recipe?"

Maracuja was taken aback by this sudden change, but responded quickly. "I notice one has more fruit than the other. This, I assume, is for the flavour, no?"

"Yes, well, mostly." He einedined. "Both recipes call for seedless grapes. As I am sure you are well aware, the skin of this fruit contains yeast, for fermentation. But we do not want them both to be a wine-based alcohol per se. So one recipe calls for peeling the grapes first. I prefer a peppery Shiraz grape for the fermented mixture. It adds to the strongly alcoholic tang. And a Pinot Noir for the other. It has a simple fruity flavour. But that is, of course, just a matter of personal taste."

"I see." She intoned interestedly, and smiled to herself. For, his refusal to turn back around caused her to suspect his delicate predicament.

After a pause, his member no longer at attention, Snape finally turned around and plucked a ladle for each hand from the table. "I think, perhaps, it is time to stir after all." The cauldrons stood between them, he reassured himself, as he impercbly bly steadied his breathing to normal.

"You will stir both at once?" she asked, surprised.

"Oh, yes, well," he paused, "I am ambidextrous, so this presents no problem for me. Now, you must be sure that your hand is steady, or the results will be uneven. And, never ever submerge the ladle from one mixture into another. You may contaminate the ingredients and ruin the potion." He focused his gaze on the cauldrons, and began stirring in an anti-clockwise motion.

Maracuja nodded in understanding. She breathed in quickly, as though to ask a question. Snape looked up and saw her rapt attention. The steam from the cauldrons reflected in her eyes, as black as his. He was sucked in. He doubted he'd ever seen anything so beautiful in his life as this impossible vision of beauty and science before him. His head felt light. His arms grew heavy. His knees grew weak. "Resistance is futile" a little voice whispered in his head as his erection returned with a vengeance, and the receptors in the potions took ample notice.

***


	6. The Walk of Shame

***   
  
Chapter 6  
  
A purple haze of fumes rose from the cauldrons and filled the air. Snape slowly and gracefully pulled out the dripping ladles, his body language belying his acute arousal and nervousness. After that was a blur. He remembered calmly placing the ladles back on the table. He remembered saying something to Maracuja to make his excuses, though exactly what he could not recall. He remembered waiting momentarily for her to leave while he attempted to regain composure, eyeing the potions with loathing as though they were the fault and not the product of his predicament. Why he did not magic them away with a simple Evanesca he could not say. But before he knew it, he'd found himself stormily ascending the stone steps to Dumbledore's office.  
  
"Sherbet Lemon!" he shouted angrily at the stone gargoyle, which moved, unfazed by his tone.  
  
Snape stormed up the stairs. Most of the portraits feigned sleep, but Phineas Nigellus noted Snape's entrance and raised an eyebrow.  
  
"Severus! My fine Slytherin associate." He oozed a little too cheerily. "You're looking a little peaked. Agitated even. Are you worried about something? Better keep your pecker up if you'll be bartender tonight." He finished with a phlegmy laugh.  
  
Snape scowled, but did not look the portrait in the face. "Where is Dumbledore?" he barked.  
  
"I am right here, Severus" came a sing-songy voice from behind a bookshelf.   
  
Snape immediately regained his composure, though he was pale and panting slightly. "Headmaster." he supplicated, head bent. "I beg your pardon for the interruption, but I cannot serve my potion tonight."  
  
Dumbledore placed a shiny round object on his desk and eyed Snape intently for a moment. He gestured for them both to sit and then enquired, "You are missing some ingredient? Not feeling well? Or...no, I can see this is about something else."  
  
Snape sat at the edge of his chair, holding his breath and unconsciously rubbed his knees. He did not look up, and he did not know what to say. Black hair cascaded over his face as though to protect him from further embarrassment. After a moment he spoke softly and deliberately. "The recipe I use is a very sensitive one. I am sure you are aware of the subtleties in temperature, technique and...temperament that are needed to produce the desired results. I am afraid I was not able to produce the, er, necessary conditions this year. Please forgive me Headmaster."  
  
Dumbledore smiled knowingly as his gaze fell upon the other man, who looked at that very moment more like a mortified teenager than an accomplished potions master. He chose his next words very carefully. "I want you to listen to me, Severus," he began. "Tonight is about enjoying ourselves. You have suffered an extremely difficult year. We all have-but you especially. Tonight we have the opportunity to shrug off a year's worth of stress and turmoil. So stop. Allow yourself to relinquish this pressure and release. You are, if I may, much to...much too..." he breathed, as though thinking about his last words, then slowly finished, "much too hard on yourself, Severus." Some of the snoring portraits snickered.  
  
Snape returned Dumbledore's gaze with cynical narrowed eyes. His pale thin fingers flittered nervously on the edge of the desk like spiders. He knew Dumbledore was right about the party, but could not for his life explain how the man could pinpoint the problem so specifically. "Nigellus," the realisation suddenly dawned on him. "I must remind myself to do something painful to his portrait in my office." Anger overcame his embarrassment at that very deliberate choice of words. He looked up, and spoke to the other man's shoulder. "I hear you, sir, and I am not amused."   
  
"Ah, but the party participants will be." He teased back.  
  
He slammed his hand on Dumbledore's desk. "I will not be held responsible for what might ensue!"   
  
"Not to fear. I shall make all excuses and take full responsibility." he promised breezily, with a twinkle in his eye. "But I highly doubt you will find any complaints." He paused, and then continued gently but with insistence. "This is not a request, Severus. It is an order. You will serve the potions tonight, and you will enjoy yourself...and enjoy the company of the one who inspired this little predicament of yours."  
  
Snape made to protest, but Dumbledore raised a hand to silence him. "There are things one can see even without needing a 'third eye' Severus. What gifts the stars have bestowed upon you this summer should be treasured. For you and I know there will not be many more idle summers like this in the future."  
  
Dumbledore folded his hands in his lap and sat silently. Snape stood up and began pacing the room, then stopped, placed his hands on the desk and leaned forward. A verbal spar ensued.  
  
"She is a student."  
  
He began pacing again.  
  
"She is an adult."  
  
"She is my intern."  
  
"She is a grown woman here of her own volition."  
  
Snape stopped and examined his fingernails. "What if things go horribly wrong?"  
  
"What if they don't?"  
  
He dropped his hands. "What if she lodges a complaint?"  
  
"What if she's pleased?"  
  
"What if it's all my own demented musings?"  
  
Dumbledore stood and placed a hand on Snape's shoulder. "It's not."  
  
Snape sat down. "What will people think?"  
  
"That you are a very, very fortunate man."  
  
He was not quite sure how this meeting had turned the way it had. All he knew was that Dumbledore seemed more like a friend and father at that moment than anyone ever had in his life.   
  
Dumbledore squeezed Snape's shoulder gently then withdrew his hand. "She told Minerva she wants the best. I do not take her for the kind of woman to take no for an answer when she wants something. So go, and be yourself. And don't worry about the potions. By the time anyone figures out what kind of effect it's having on them, they will cease to care, and will no doubt forget by morning. And unless you've changed the ingredients, no one will do anything they didn't really want to do anyway. So you see, you are exculpated even without my promise."  
  
Snape stood and tossed the hair out of his face. "Thank you, Headmaster. Now if you'll excuse me, there is a frock coat impatiently waiting my return." Dumbledore gave him a slightly puzzled look. "Well, surely you don't expect me to serve as bartender wearing my lab robes?" he gestured up and down. And with a turn on his heels, Snape was out the door.  
  
***   
  
A/N  
  
Thanks again to Louvain and April for their superb beta skills. Go right now and read the wonderful writing of Ridley-Roo, ff.net ID 289002.  
  
Thank you's to Clifflyne and Ari for your reviews and encouragement.  
  
"Lemony" chapters ahead. This story will soon deserve its R rating. You are warned if you read on from here!  
  
Oh, and I suppose I ought to throw in the disclaimer again. The Harry Potterverse is the property of JK Rowling, Bloomsbury, Scholastic and Warner Bros. No copyright infringement intended. I make no profit off this.   
  
If you're enjoying my story...please review! 


	7. What Has Been Foretold

***   
  
Chapter 7  
  
Maracuja drifted out of the dungeons towards what she hoped was her room. She needed to get ready, and felt inexplicably eager to look especially nice. She could still taste the purple fumes from the cauldron lingering in her nose and throat. It had put her in a dreamy state. Even though it had been a long day, she did not feel the least bit tired. On the contrary, she felt more stimulated than she had in ages. Coming to Hogwarts, meeting the staff, it was all so exciting. She'd been dreaming of coming here for some time. But her life just never afforded her the opportunity before now. Rather, she chastised herself for hesitating to take the opportunity.   
  
Merlin knows she'd spent enough time thinking about it. Two years she'd investigated Professor Snape. It started with a journal article on the Wolfsbane potion. She read up on his research. Learned of his reputation-both professionally and personally. She'd even managed to find a few pictures of him-one looking serious in a scholarly journal; a second of him scowling in a group photo in Karkaroff's office (shoved between two shelved books, which she thought was quite odd); and the third was a staff photo in "Hogwarts: A History" which she thought was quite flattering. He seemed a queer little man-too stylish to be a researcher, but definitely not a sun-drenched sportsman type either. In many ways she thought he resembled the pale, dark, intensity of some of her Romanian relatives. Still, there was something very properly British about him. She found him handsome in an unconventional way-the dark brooding eyes, wiry black-clad body, fine delicate fingers, prominent aquiline nose-ah, that nose was to die for! But it was his research that held her initial and deepest fascination. And it was a dream one night after a meal with her grandmother that fuelled her decision to really "go for it"-to temporarily drop her career and travel so many miles from home.   
  
"There will still be plenty of sick people for you to attend to when you return." her grandmother insisted. Maracuja loved using her formal magical training to be a healer. Her work took her amongst the scattered Roms throughout the rural parts of her country. It was only because she was a Rom herself that they dared trust the use of formal magical healing. But there were times when she wanted some undefined more. To produce something-a cure? A better way of treating certain illnesses? Perhaps it was just a chance to explore another country, feed the nomadic lifestyle in her blood. A chance to find kindred spirits? Or love? She wasn't sure, but guessed it was probably a combination of things.  
  
She'd had a long chat with her grandmother over dinner that fateful night, confiding in her these hopes and dreams. Maracuja's grandmother was a profoundly powerful witch. She knew the old magic of the Roms better than anyone else in their community. Many people came to her for advice. So, it was not only familial affection that inspired this meeting.  
  
"You will make the right decision, and this way will guide you." she instructed. "Go home tonight. Cut an apple crosswise and it will reveal a five-pointed star. Sit in front of a mirror in candlelight. Eat the apple while thinking about what it is you truly seek. Then, take marigold flowers, a sprig of marjoram, thyme, and a little wormwood; dry them before a fire, rub them into powder; then simmer it over a slow fire, adding a small quantity of virgin honey and vinegar. Anoint yourself with this when you go to bed, saying three times: 'that is to be.' You will fall into a deep sleep and a dream will come to you. It will reveal your path-what it is you truly seek, where you will find it, and who will help you."  
  
That night she followed her grandmother's instructions and did indeed have a dream. In it, she stood before a cauldron in a field at the full moon. Silver and green fumes rose in swirls into the air. To the left was a forest. To her right was a lake. A tall thin man in billowing black robes approached her from the distance, cast in shadow. Moonlight shone on his black hair. She did not see his face, but she felt his presence warmly. When he came closer, he glided around behind her as she waved her wand over the cauldron. The fumes grew thicker and a snake coiled up from the fumes, then dissipated into thin air. The man now stood behind her and pulled her towards him, scooping her waist with one arm and stroking her hair aside with the other. A deep velvety voice whispered in her ear "That one is my favourite." She smiled and leaned into him, aroused, and found he greeted her arousal in kind.   
  
They swayed to and fro, relishing the embrace. His erection grew more insistent against her as their bodies' rhythmic motion hypnotised and united them. She closed her eyes and rolled her head to one side as his mouth softly explored the side of her neck, leaving a wet trail that gave her chills. Maracuja's nipples hardened from the chill and the powerful arousal he inspired. The warmth between her legs grew strong, urgent, hot. His hands came to life, stroking her arms, caressing her breasts, roving down her torso. He repeatedly whispered her name softly in her ear. A muffled gasp of pleasure escaped her lips as his hands found her hips and gently guided her to turn around. Her body complied willingly. She licked her lips and raised her chin in anticipation of a kiss. But the kiss did not come. "Open your eyes." the voice whispered. "I want you to see." When she did, she saw eyes, as black as hers, staring deeply into her own. She let out a gasp of recognition. It was as though the staff photo of Professor Snape had come to life. He beckoned her to Hogwarts, to his labs, and to his private dungeon quarters.   
  
She did not tell anyone of this dream. It told her all she needed to know. Her mind made up, she made her arrangements, made her excuses, and made her way to Hogwarts.   
  
***   
  
So now here she was, drifting on a cloud of purple fumes, her feet barely touching the stone steps. It was only when she looked up and realised she was completely lost that the haze began to lift. "I must remember to insist on that tour" she thought to herself. Slightly out of breath, she stopped and had a look around.   
  
"You are in the Astronomy Tower, dear." A tremulous, disembodied voice rang out.   
  
"Why, thank you." Maracuja replied to the air. She felt a sudden sensation as though enduring a cold shower.   
  
"I am a resident ghost of Hogwarts. They call me the Grey Lady." The two smiled at each other. "Where are you seeking to go?" she offered. "I would be happy to guide you there. Peeves is floating about here somewhere. You don't want to get directions from him."  
  
Maracuja's head was now very clear after that thorough chilling. She could see at a glance how far she had walked, and wondered to herself what in that potion was so potent as to produce such an overpowering fog in her brain with only a breath of fumes.   
  
"I need to find my quarters. I am staying in the rooms normally reserved for the Defence Against the Dark Arts professor."   
  
The Grey Lady showed her the way back down and drifted off. Maracuja entered her room and sat on her bed and meditated a moment. "Perhaps a nap would be a good idea after all."  
  
When she woke a few hours later, darkness had fallen outside. Her stomach rumbled slightly, but she ignored it, knowing there would be ample food at the party. Anxious to join the festivities, she bathed and dressed quickly, attended to her hair and make-up, and took one last glance in the mirror.  
  
"Beautiful." The mirror spoke. Maracuja jumped, momentarily startled. Talking mirrors were an uncommon treat to her. She had another look at herself. "What do you think of this outfit?" she asked.  
  
"Elegant and, dare I say, sexy. It shows off your curves without being vulgar. And black is unquestionably your colour."  
  
Maracuja smiled. "And how do you find my hair and make-up?"  
  
"You are a natural beauty, my dear. Your efforts serve to further accentuate your gifts."  
  
Feeling satisfied with this answer, she left the bathroom and walked towards her chamber door. "I don't know where to go!" she laughed to herself. As if by magic, there came a responsive rap at her door. "Perhaps it is that helpful little house elf again," she thought, "or I suppose it could be the Grey Lady. This castle certainly seems in no short supply of helpful beings."  
  
But when she opened the door and peered down, it was not a smiling house elf that greeted her gaze. Instead there stood a pair of freshly polished black boots. A smile crept upon her face. Looking up she found herself nearly nose to nose with Professor Snape. He smelled good, and looked amazing. She stepped back and took a moment to regard this vision in black. He was no longer wearing his everyday robes (elegant as they were). Instead, he was clad in the elaborate hand-tailored outfit from his staff photo-the one he wore in her dream: Fitted black pants that hugged his legs, with buttons at the slightly flared ankles. An elegant frock coat cinched at the waist, buttoned to the neck, with just a hint of crisp white linen peeking out the collar and cuffs. Long, full robes which did not obscure the fine figure he cut.  
  
"I am errant in my duties, my lady." He offered. "I believe you will need an escort to find your way to the soiree. May I?" Snape gave an uncharacteristically roguish grin and held out his arm. Marajuca looped her arm in his. A breezy wave of her wand sealed the door behind her.  
  
*** 


	8. And The 'Bartender of the Year Award' Go...

***   
  
Chapter 8  
  
Maracuja was pleasantly surprised by this display of gentlemanly frivolity. "Perhaps it is the fumes from earlier?" she pondered. The two walked arm in arm. Snape was almost playful, leading the way. Well, as playful as anyone could imagine Snape being without uttering one of his trademark insults at someone. He pointed out paintings along the walls and told her stories about them. The portraits waved and grinned in return, occasionally introducing themselves.  
  
"Here is a portrait of the esteemed Cliodne. She was an Irish druidess who is known for her three magical birds that sang the sick to sleep and cured them. Legends say that she could take the shape of a sea bird or change into a wave. She also discovered the properties of moondew."  
  
"And here we have Wendelin the Weird. Now, I am aware that some consider me to have odd tastes in hobbies. But this witch is alleged to have enjoyed being burnt at the stake so much that she allowed herself to be captured 14 times in various disguise!"  
  
The two giggled conspiratorially and kept walking. Ignatia Wildsmith (inventor of floo powder, Snape pointed out) left her portrait and ran to Wendelin's. "My word! Isn't he cheeky this evening?" she gossiped with the portrait's inhabitant. "Downright flirtatious!" Wendelin replied. "He actually giggled. It's scandalous I say! And talking about me no less." Ignatia rolled her eyes. "Enjoyed that, did you?" Wendelin snapped. "Go floo yourself back to your own portrait then!"  
  
Snape and Maracuja continued on, down the stairs to the Great Hall antechamber. As the party room grew nearer, both could hear the sound of music-heavy bass thumping into the floors. "Headmaster Dumbledore is in a dancing mood, it would seem." Snape uttered, his lips upturned slightly.  
  
"That should be fun to watch, the Headmaster, how you say, 'getting down' on the dance floor." she replied.  
  
Both let out a little snort of laughter. Snape did not let on that it might be more frightening than funny.  
  
When they had reached the door, Snape held it open with his left hand. His right hand cascaded down her arm to her hand, then gently glided her into a spin. She pirouetted into the room and found a small smattering of people watching.   
  
Snape came up behind her, rested his hand on her lower back and whispered in her ear in hushed deep tones which gave Maracuja a brief sexual jolt. "I regret I must tend the bar most of the night. But do save some room on your dance card for me."   
  
Maracuja blushed and smiled. "Why, Professor. That is regretful. And there I thought my card would be already nearly full."  
  
Snape frowned, a twinge of panic pulsated in his chest.  
  
Maracuja felt his sudden emotional drop. "With your name, of course." She smiled.  
  
A few early birds already in the room watched these two in playful interaction.   
  
"What's going on there? Professor Sinistra gossiped to Professor Sprout. "Their chemistry is unmistakable."  
  
"Funny you should use the word chemistry." Sprout whispered back. "I met her at lunch this afternoon. She's his summer intern!"  
  
Sinistra let out a shocked gasp. "Ooooh, he is a lucky bastard. My last intern looked like he was half-goblin. Do tell me more!"  
  
***   
  
Snape kissed her hand, bowed in a gentlemanly fashion and made his way to the bar. Now standing behind it, he stopped to take stock. Crystal bowls had replaced his cauldrons. As per his instruction, goblets were stacked to one side and in crates underneath. Various mixers, a variety of liquors, swizzle sticks and some fruits for the drinks were also conveniently arranged. Two house elves came waddling into the room, carrying heavy sacks. "Sirs, you is never asking for ice before. We sorry to take so long. We never have ice for drinks in the castle, sirs." Snape took the sacks out of their arms and laid them in a cauldron. "Yes, well, that will do." He said dismissively.  
  
Slowly entrants arrived and greeted each other. Snape kept a surreptitious eye on Maracuja mixing in the crowd, eager not to be caught gazing at her. Unlike him, she seemed to converse so easily with others. After a few minutes, people began gravitating towards the food and the bar. His attention was called upon.  
  
"Severus, old man. So nice to see you again. How are you, mate?" Professor Vector's husband sidled up, clapping and rubbing his hands together in anticipation of his drink. He was a portly but friendly middle-aged man with a bit too much hair on his knuckles.   
  
"I am quite well, thank you." Snape replied smoothly. "What is your pleasure this evening?"  
  
"Oh, I think you know." Mr. Vector winked. "I'll take the tangy one, nice and strong with two fingers of Ogden's."  
  
"Funny that you should use the word 'strong'. My brew is a bit more potent this year. Might I suggest some ice, perhaps?"  
  
"Whatever you think is best, old man." He cheerily winked. And with that, Snape poured the first drink of the evening.  
  
Snape stood behind the bar, praying for a miracle. The ice, he hoped, would water down the impending effects. Though appearing almost jocular on the outside, inside he was trembling. He did not look forward to anyone figuring out what had gone wrong. Worse, he had no particular desire to witness its effects in action-or, at least not with the likes of this crowd. He also stood pondering how to divert Maracuja from drinking the punch. If he was to follow Dumbledore's advice, he wanted to do things the right way. He liked this woman, and he needed to work with her. He found it neither prudent nor preferable to simply use her for a night of cheap sexual indulgence. He rather fancied the idea of spending time getting to know her. "I must" he repeated to himself, almost like a mantra, "I must be circumspect, be honourable, be gentlemanly."   
  
But the night wore on and the drinks started flowing. Snape betrayed his better nature, finding the high spirits in the room infectious. Before long, people were dancing, carousing, laughing. The thump thump of the bass pulsated through everyone's bodies. Snape tapped his foot against the floor in rhythm to the music, closing his eyes and nodding his head. He absent-mindedly took a sip of his own concoction, realised what he'd done, and tossed the cup's contents in the bin. But he soon found himself searching the crowd with greater interest, straining his mind to resist the small sip of potion he'd ingested.  
  
Snape's mind began to wander, and his libido made a struggling effort to assert itself over his will as his eyes fell upon Maracuja again. She was chatting amiably with another intern. He thought she was the most beautiful woman he'd every seen. To him, she glowed. His mind began to hum. "Be gentlemanly. Yes. Be courtly, be generous, be witty, be brave...ack! Behave!"   
  
Just then Madam Rosmerta came up to the bar and interrupted his thoughts. "I'll have another, Thevvvvvvrus." She cooed tipsily. "I am eeeeeeever thoooo glad I closed the bar tonight. Evvvvvv'ryone is here! We're all having thutch a good time!" She shoved her goblet closer in his direction.  
  
"Perhaps madam has had enough?" he quipped, smoothly unhanding her of the vessel.  
  
Rosmerta became insistent, but Snape new better than to give her any more of anything. He poured some pumpkin juice and threw a cocktail umbrella in for sport. Rosmerta did not seem to notice what she was drinking. Her eyes were set on Snape, eyelids heavy and a lascivious grin on her face. Snape saw the look on her face and a faint stroke of horror came over him. "The bar." He thought. "The bar must stay between us."  
  
But Rosmerta did not think the same. She came around the side of the bar and pushed him up against the wall. He recoiled in disgust as she began rubbing her ample breasts against his front. His entire body stiffened and his hands fidgeted uncomfortably, grasping at air. Her peasant blouse began to loosen, and her breasts spilled out. "Thevvvvvvrus." She purred. "Don't you like me? Even a little bit?"  
  
To the side, Maracuja watched, amused and unseen by the two.  
  
"Like you..." Snape repeated, almost a question. "Like you. Why yes, Rosmerta." Her face gleamed back hopefully. Snape's voice lowered into a dangerous tone. "I do like you. And what I like about you the most is your willingness to instantly obey and put 'those' away. He pointed at her breasts. Now run away like a good little barmaid, before you are even sorrier than you already are."  
  
Embarrassed and disappointed, Rosmerta did as she was told. She knew a losing battle when she saw one.  
  
Maracuja approached the bar laughing. "That was impressive, Professor." She applauded. She looked around and gestured at the room. "I thought your drinks were mild mood enhancers. What has happened to this room tonight?"   
  
Snape took every effort to suppress the redness in his cheeks. "Eh, well, it's been a very stressful year, you see." He feigned an explanation. "Perhaps people are more eager than usual to have a good time?"  
  
"I see the woman you just waved away was certainly eager to have an unusually good time." She teased.  
  
"Yes, well, not everyone gets to have the good time they want."  
  
"So, what about that dance, then?" she offered, swaying her arms and hips playfully. "Must you stay trapped behind this bar all night? Don't you want to have a good time too?"  
  
"Behave...behave...behave" he repeated in his head.   
  
Snape smiled weakly, but before he could speak, Professor McGonagall came up to the bar.  
  
"Severus!" she sang, her arms outstretched, her general demeanour very unlike her normal self. "I feel so good tonight! Why, I don't feel myself at all. And I can't say that I mind! I daresay, we really ought to do this more than once a year. Why, you should market this stuff! What do you think? Your very own line of Snape beverages!"  
  
Maracuja grinned from ear to ear. "You know, I haven't tried any yet. I think I'll have a go."  
  
"No" Snape snapped back, a little too quickly and a little too insistently. "I mean, Minerva." He tried to cover for himself. "My duties at Hogwarts and beyond make it much too impractical for me to pursue such a thing."   
  
Maracuja was not fooled. In fact, her suspicions became acutely piqued as the tension in the room seemed to have gone up a notch from even a few moments before. Just as she was about to call his bluff, a loud tinkling noise rang out above the music and hum of the crowd.   
  
The two of them spun around and perused the room. Looking up, Snape quickly surmised it was Peeves who had caused the noise. It seemed he had crashed into a chandelier above them. The Bloody Baron was chasing him out of the room before he could inflict any real damage.  
  
McGonagall drifted off unconcernedly. A small crowd of grinning, antsy, preening women had begun to form around the Potions Master. In the distance, Dumbledore was seen rubbing up against everyone on the dance floor. Professor Sprout was sitting on Hagrid's lap, playing with his beard as though affectionately untangling weeds. Madam Hooch grabbed McGonagall's hand and led her to a couch. The two started snogging and quickly became a tangle of limbs. Filch sat on a chair off to the side, petting Mrs. Norris furiously. Snape was horror-stricken. His worst fears were coming true before his eyes.  
  
Maracuja took advantage of the distraction and dipped a cup in one of the bowls. She then expertly shooed the other women away from the bar and took a sniff of the drink and had a quick glance at Snape. His arms were folded in front, and he was tapping his foot angrily. He scowled and seemed paler and more nervous than a moment ago. She sniffed the drink again, took a sip and thought about what he'd said earlier, along with the puff of fumes, which had put her in a daze. "Specific ingredients. Steady hand. Magical infusion of...Oh my god!" She spun around and had another look at the crowd. As the potion began coursing through her veins, she instinctually knew. His passion for her went boiling through those cauldrons. And from the look of things, it was a powerful, rolling boil.  
  
Snape brought his attention back to the bar and to Maracuja, who hid the goblet behind her back and addressed him amiably. "Have you had any of your own elixir?" she carefully enquired, trying to appear innocent.  
  
Snape narrowed his eyes, but then decided it was an innocent enough question. "Well, only a very small sip. I still have to tend bar, you know." He answered coolly.   
  
Despite the small amount of potion taking hold of her, Maracuja knew she'd have to tread lightly if she were to get what she wanted. "How long do these parties last?" she continued. Won't you get tired standing here all night?"  
  
"I am in possession of a great deal of stamina." He drawled. But no sooner had the word stamina left his lips than he regretted his choice of words. For their eyes had met and the unconscious message was clear.  
  
Snape leaned against his side of the bar for protection. To his disconcerting discomfort, his prick was growing rapidly into a strong and painful erection, and his heart was fluttering madly.   
  
Just then, Snape heard the sound of a familiar gait-a heavy wooden leg-thumping out of time with the music. "Not a moment too soon." He thought to his relief. Never in his life did he think he'd be happy to see Mad-Eye Moody, approaching the bar.   
  
"Fashionably late as always." Snape chided coolly.   
  
"Had to check the grounds first of course." Moody growled in return. Clutching his hip flask, he continued. "And looking around this room, I can't help but wonder if it's safe to drink this year."  
  
Snape scowled at Moody. But Maracuja interjected. "I am Maracuja Feuer. And who are you?"  
  
"Mad-Eye Moody, ma'am." He responded. "Pleased to meet you." His roving eye looked her up and down, and a salacious look came over his face.  
  
Maracuja felt uncomfortable. "If you'll excuse me, I need to find the ladies room." She pardoned herself.  
  
Mad-Eye spun around to Snape. "She's a hot one." He growled. "You should see what she's got on under them robes!"  
  
"Shut up, you dirty old man." Snape snapped back.  
  
Mad-Eye rolled his magical eye over the bar, saw Snape's pulsating erection through the layers of wood and cloth, and looked back up at his face. "Yeah, well, from the looks of things, I'm not the only dirty old man here."  
  
"Mind the bar. I'll be right back." He scowled indignantly. This was not a conversation he wished to continue with the likes of Moody.  
  
Mad-Eye amiably agreed and stepped behind the bar as Snape stormed off into the hallway. He was furious and needed to cool off in more ways that one.  
  
Unfortunately, or fortunately, that was not what the cards held in store for him. As he flew down the stairs and exited the front doors for a quick breath of fresh air, Maracuja turned around without looking and slammed right into him. The two stood breathless for a split second, then locked into a passionate embrace.   
  
*** A/N: A shout out to my friends from the Harry Potter Lexicon Forum, who know about Snape brand beverages only too well.  
  
The Harry Potter Lexicon gets full credit as my source for all the information about the portraits. Wendelin and Cliodne's bios are quoted nearly word for word. If you don't know about the Lexicon, go there now! It is an invaluable resource. http://www.hp-lexicon.org/index-2.html 


	9. Save the last dance for me

***  
  
Chapter 9  
  
Time stopped and spun out of control all at once as the two merged. Their kiss was so intense as the flood of passion washed over them that they could not tell where one body ended and the other began. Breathless, frantic, lips sucking on lips, hands flying out of control, molten lava lust coursing through their veins and commanding the gravitational pull of their groins to join.  
  
Snape's nostrils flared as he eventually broke heavily for a breath. Maracuja held onto his arms to steady herself. She felt light-headed and weak. Snape spied the goblet of potion on the steps and his heart sank. "Not like this" he thought sadly to himself, and within moments his ragged breathing had slowed. But his desire was stronger than his will. He could not walk away.  
  
As she looked up into his eyes, a strange fear overtook him. It was the fear of desire when accompanied by hope. It was a feeling he'd not had for so long he thought himself not possible of feeling it again. Lust danced a tango with his insecurity-the two romancing his soul. He caressed her jaw line and smiled shyly.  
  
"Ms. Feuer," he started softly, tentatively.  
  
But she placed two fingers on his lips and shushed him. She returned his smile sweetly and whispered, "I think you can call me Maracuja."   
  
Snape blushed and leaned in for another kiss. This time, as their lips barely touched, his hand left her cheek and journeyed its way over her ear before cradling the back of her head. Slowly, they explored each other...hearts pounding in their ears. . . the softness of lips grazing and quivering. . . tongues coyly playing at entry. . . fingers fluttering nervously in self-conscious hesitation. Was he trembling slightly? She thought, perhaps.  
  
Their kiss deepened, he folded his arms around her. Maracuja weakened again as her legs were gently nudged apart by his knee coming between them. His embrace was warm and sensual. Their tongues intertwined as the kiss intensified and their lips fed on one another.  
  
"I want you," he whispered in ragged tones. She sucked in a deep breath as his mouth pulled away and his nose caressed her eyelids. Her thighs involuntarily tightened around his in excitement. Snape's confidence returned triple fold. He pulled her closer with his hand on her lower back, and pressed his erection insistently against her hip.  
  
She kissed him wildly and moaned in response as the raw excitement growing inside her spread and took over. In a rush of desire and emotion, he gasped, "I want you, Maracuja. I want you," he swallowed. "I want to see your beautiful face as I make you come-by my hands, in my mouth, from being inside you. But I beg you-not like this. When the potion stops flowing through your veins. I want to know that it's real." He squeezed her upper arms and shook her slightly. A wave of panic overtook him, as he awaited her response. Did he really allow himself to be that vulnerable?  
  
Maracuja was stunned. Her heart raced as her mind scrambled for a response. She wanted him-NOW. But his compelling plea could not be ignored.   
  
"I know what went wrong with the potion, Severus." She uttered. "I know, and I know this is real. And I like you. And I want you. The universe brought me here to you." She paused and looked into his expectant eyes. "But I will wait."  
  
A thrill of panic and joy swept through him. "She knew. She knows. She came here for me. It's not just the potion. "  
  
"Would, shu, would you care for a dance?" he managed to stammer in response.  
  
"I would love that," she answered, a great smile overtaking her face. The stars in the sky twinkled in support.  
  
In one smooth gesture, Snape scooped her up in his arms and carried her back inside. She felt joyous and light, like a princess-one arm cradling her back and the other in the crook of her knees. She wrapped her hands around his neck to hold on, her feet playfully dangling in the air. Identical smiles crept on their faces as she rested her head on his chest.  
  
The party had started to empty moments before they re-entered. Couples were finding their way up to their rooms or out the front door, too involved in themselves to notice Snape and Maracuja returning. Yet, the music seemed to slow down as they made their way across the room and onto the dance floor. He gently placed her down, but her arms never let go of his neck as they naturally gravitated into each other's body. Their hips moved as one to the music, they did not seem to notice as the last remaining attendees pointed, whispered and tip-toed out of the room.   
  
Slowly they swayed, breathing in unison, bodies melded into one another. The sound of violins and accordions filled the air. They rocked back and forth, no particular dance steps but that of new lovers in thrall to the commands of new passion. The music played softly, just for them. "That one is my favourite," he whispered in her ear at one point. A shiver went down her spine as she remembered those words from her dream. Dawn broke through the windows when they finally opened their eyes to peer around the room.   
  
Torturously they separated, but held hands as they walked out. A house elf snuck across the room to turn off the wizarding wireless. Only he knew that a certain wise wizard had placed a spell upon it earlier.   
  
They walked hand in hand as Snape led her silently back to her quarters. When they arrived there, she leaned her back against the door and he came in close to kiss her once again. Languorously, they said their good-byes. Driven by desire and the thought that he'd be leaving her, he cupped her bottom with one hand and with the other dragged his thumb across one of her nipples. Maracuja's back arched in response to his touch. A guttural groan escaped her throat. They kissed one last desperate kiss and gasped for air.  
  
"Tomorrow" he managed to stammer. Their bodies protested fiercely as he forcibly prised himself away.  
  
"Tomorrow" she echoed, and quickly slipped through the crack in the door.  
  
***   
  
Snape practically flew down the stairs to his dungeon quarters, desperate to put as much distance as possible between them before he did anything he might regret. He quickly removed the wards and flung open his door. He was too wired and too aroused to sleep or even to think clearly. Tossing his wand onto a bedside table, he tore off his robes and frock coat before kicking off his shoes.  
  
He glanced at himself in the mirror as he began to unbutton his shirt. He face was flushed and his hair looked almost windswept. Glancing down, he could see his raging hard-on was forcing its way out into view. Tossing his shirt to the floor, he unbuttoned his trousers in a hurry and watched as it sprung toward freedom and then stood defiantly at attention, bobbing up and down. "Look at yourself, you pathetic bastard," he sneered at his own image.  
  
Snape stepped out of his pants and grabbed his shaft roughly with one hand. He stroked himself quickly as he watched himself in the mirror. His eyes played games with his mind as his sight danced from the grimacing tortured man in the mirror to visions of her face and body. He looked scornfully upon the pale skinny man before him in the mirror. "You will be lucky if she still finds you attractive tomorrow," he sneered again, and drew his gaze away from the much faded mark on his left forearm.  
  
But his erection, the solid flesh weighty in his hand, still demanded attention. Closing his eyes, he increased the pressure on his shaft and found his way to his bed while still pleasuring himself. Now lying on his back, he pinched one nipple hard and licked his lips. His hand continued its rhythmic, insistent stroking up and down his cock. Precum leaked out his purple, swollen head and his heels dug into the mattress.  
  
A stream of undirected thoughts flashed through his mind. "her face...her lips...her breasts...her kiss..." He groaned a hoarse laugh as he recalled her telling someone off. Then just as quickly she was smiling at him, then pressed against him, then kissing him. Her body was pliant under his command. His stroking increased in speed and grew louder as his mind's eye saw her expose her breasts. His mouth sucked one nipple while his hand played with the other. Snape's excitement grew at the surprising sound of his own voice "Uhn...uhn...Maracuja..." She was pushing him against the wall, wrapping her hot mouth around his erection and sucking eagerly. "Oh god...oh sweet Merlin..." now he was fingering her, her vagina slippery and fragrant. "Mmm...mmm...mmmaaaaahh..." and she was riding him, tossing her hair, smiling wickedly and pinching his nipples as she came. Snape's body stiffened and convulsed as he gave one last tug, that final vision sending him over the edge. Cum shot out of him like a bullet and exploded over his chest. He lay on his bed panting, drenched in sweat.   
  
As the tingling in his limbs slowly started to fade, he groped blindly around for his shirt, which had landed near the far edge of the bed. His fingers clasped around the white fabric as he drew it up to his chest to wipe off the sticky liquid before throwing it onto the floor, uncharacteristically mindless of the mess he'd created.  
  
Shortly, his breathing slowed down to a slow rhythm. His mind went blank as exhaustion claimed his body. He hadn't come that hard in years. The early morning hours were singing their siren song as his eyelids glued shut and he felt the sensation of his head plunging backwards deeper into the pillow. Sweet peaceful sleep crept its way up to take him, only to be jarred by a sudden something dripping wet and thick onto his nose and lips. Summoning strength he wasn't aware he possessed, he opened his eyes to see, up on the bed canopy above him, gravity taking control of the remains of his orgasm, as the cum which had splattered there started to drip downwards. He licked his lips and wiped his nose unconsciously with his hand, rolled over and passed out.  
  
****   
  
Maracuja closed the door behind her and spun around the room. Joy radiated from every pore as the aroused smile on her face competed with the candles to light up the room. She stretched and made her way out of her robes. Holding them up to her face, she could still smell him on them, and it heightened her arousal. Her legs crossed involuntarily as she felt the aching dampness between them. Giving into the feeling, she rocked back and forth momentarily before dropping her robes and divesting herself of her undergarments.  
  
Maracuja went to the bathroom and tossed cold water on her face. A quick sprinkling of make-up removal draught left her feeling clean and invigorated. She danced over to the bed and jumped into it.   
  
Kicking down the sheets, she stroked upwards from her thighs to her breasts, imagining they were his hands instead of her own. She swooned at the memory of him carrying her in his arms. "Oh, I did not dream he could be so romantic," she thought. "That voice, oh, his kiss. Those strong yet graceful hands." She cupped her breasts and gave them a squeeze, then closed her eyes and felt his hot breath on her. He was leaning over her, stroking her breasts then kissing her and stroking himself. His hair cascaded down and curtained her face. Her hands moved lower, "You are so wet," he whispered, and began circling her clit with one finger. She could feel his hair brushing against her stomach, tickling her gently, as he nuzzled his nose between her lips and licked while inserting a finger. She groaned, the circling motion increasing. Soon her legs were far apart, her pelvis rocking back and forth. Faster and faster, stroking her nub, she became wetter and tenser. Her legs quivered. The tension in her abdomen increased. "I want you" she heard him whisper over and over in her ear. . . I want you. . . to see you come by my hand. . . to feel you. . . inside me. . . her voice, his voice. . . the room spun. . .that one delicate finger, circles grinding into her, went faster and faster until her body stiffened. A spark went off and a wave of orgasm rolled up from her toes to her head, the blood rushing in her ears. She rolled to one side and hugged the pillow, her legs curled up in a foetal position.   
  
Spent, she drifted off to sleep, fantasizing that the pillow was him in her arms.  
  
**** 


	10. Tea and Sympathy?

****   
  
Chapter 10  
  
Maracuja woke the next day with a smile on her face and stretched. It was about 11, and her spirits flew with the birds chirping outside as she smiled at the sun greeting her through the gauzy curtains. She felt refreshed despite having only gotten about 5 hours sleep. Bounding out of bed, she leapt towards the window and threw open the curtains. A couple of birds joined her on the sill, singing as though just for her. Maracuja danced toward the bathroom and treated herself to a bubble bath. Hoping to be able to nick something from the kitchens, she dressed quickly, dried her hair with a wave of her wand, and made her way to the Great Hall.  
  
****   
  
Snape woke the next day with a scowl on his face and stretched. It was about 11, and his teeth grinded at the sound of the infernal birds chirping annoyingly outside. He squinted at the sunlight pelting his brain, which he found too brilliant to be allowed. Picking up his wand, he muttered a spell and the birds went flying. Another wave of his wand and the heavy curtains thudded closed to block out any and all sunlight possible. He felt exhausted, spent from only 5 hours of sleep after his little self-indulgence. Groaning discontentedly, he looked down to see its sticky reminder. Snape mocked himself for his moment of lost control. He wasn't particularly hungry, but thought a nice strong cup of coffee and a scone might do. So, after a quick cleaning spell, his clothes found their way into a hamper and his sheets were good as new. Needing to restore himself to a publicly acceptable state, he took a quick shower and threw on a set of everyday robes. Moving slowly, he climbed the stairs out of the dungeon and made his way to the Great Hall.  
  
****   
  
It seemed the entire castle had slept in. Breakfast was normally late on weekends in the summertime, but Dumbledore and the remaining faculty with interns were all just arriving round the table. Neither Snape nor Maracuja heard or saw each other as they entered the Great Hall from opposite sides. He entered the room watching his own feet and grumbling to himself. She floated in blissfully unaware of her surroundings. Suddenly, a shrill cry cut through the room and Madam Pomfrey's intern jumped. Hagrid's intern had brought a newly-hatched clabbert to the table, removed it from its box and was now feeding it scraps of sausage.  
  
"It's aw-right," Hagrid calmed her. "Clabberts t'ain't no trouble a' tall. Cute little bugger, idn't she?" The clabbert took a tiny nip out of Hagrid's finger as he attempted to feed it another bit of sausage. His intern, pleased with herself, sat the box down on one of the many empty chairs.  
  
Snape's scowl deepened as he looked up. His eyes unintentionally locked with Maracuja's before taking a glance over the table to find the source of the commotion. His haggard face caught the eye of McGonagall, who smiled broadly and offered him some coffee.   
  
"You look like you could do with a spot of this," she smiled mischievously.   
  
Snape's lips twitched into an ironic smile, but he shot daggers at her with his eyes. "Strange, I don't see Madam Hooch this morning. Any idea why she's not at breakfast Minerva? I believe you were the last to see her last night."  
  
McGonagall shot daggers back at him and hastily reached for the bowl of porridge. Maracuja made to approach Snape, grabbed the cream from the table and whispered in Madam Pomfrey's ear. "Not much of a morning person, is he?"   
  
"Not much of an any-time person, dear" she responded back.   
  
Maracuja continued her approach. "Why, good morning. Say, do you take cream in your coffee?" she toyed.  
  
"No" he answered in a sullen baritone voice, taking a seat between two empty chairs. "Black and bitter. I've no wish to camouflage the taste of reality."  
  
Maracuja was not put off by this response. On the contrary, she distinctly recalled a similar mood the day before at lunch. She sat down next to him, smiled playfully and whispered in his ear, "Black coffee is the elixir of life some mornings." He raised one eyebrow to give a biting response, but words failed him from the combination of fatigue, amusement and impressed astonishment fighting for dominance in his brain.  
  
"Indeed. It's a wonder muggles discovered it at all," was all he could manage.  
  
At this point, Snape found himself at a loss. He couldn't believe how her words had dissipated his foul mood, as he much preferred being angry and dour to nervous and shy.  
  
Maracuja, pleased with herself, took a sip of tea and reached for a scone. After a few nibbles, she remarked to no one in particular, "These funny little muffins. I like them. We do not have these in my country."  
  
"They are called scones, dear." Madam Pomfrey pointed out. "You might want to try them with a bit of clotted cream and some jam. Quite lovely."  
  
This seemed to open the table up to more amiable conversation.  
  
"Did yer sleep well, Ms. Foy-or?" Hagrid inquired innocently. "Some people find it hard their first night in the castle, yeh know."  
  
Dumbledore locked eyes with Snape in warning as Maracuja responded. "Why, yes, Hagrid. Thank you. My room is most delightfully comfortable."  
  
Snape and Dumbledore exchanged looks again-Dumbledore surprised and Snape self-satisfied.  
  
Idle chitchat continued throughout the meal-weather, food, that morning's Daily Prophet cartoon. At one point Hagrid's student lost control of the clabbert and it attempted to climb down the front of her bodice. Snape found to his immense relief that the only comments about the party were a few vague but forced remarks about it being "fun" and "different." But shifting eyes and fidgeting body language told the true story. The people at the table were too sheepish and nervous to delve into the subject too deeply. The potions master counted his blessings and hoped it would last.   
  
When he had finished eating, he stood up and excused himself. Maracuja stood and made to follow him.  
  
Dumbledore quickly spoke up before the two could leave, "I suppose the interns could use a bit of orientating to our summer schedule. For those of you who are unfamiliar, we hold weekend brunch from 10 - 12, tea at 4 and dinner at 8. During the week, mealtimes are 8am, noon and half-six. But interns, particularly those who have never been here before, may want to spend some time exploring the grounds and Hogsmeade. Unlike the regular academic year, students and staff are welcome to take their meals off the grounds. And, of course, there are those who know how to tickle the pear. Now, as this is a Saturday, I imagine some of you may wish to go exploring. I leave it up to interns and faculty to determine whether to start today or on Monday."  
  
There were nods of acknowledgement and then "tickle the pear?" could be heard in soft murmurs and giggles as people exited the Great Hall and the food vanished from the plates.  
  
****   
  
Snape paused a moment to consider his plans for the day. He was eager to begin. Yet, he couldn't deny a certain nervousness, wondering how to proceed after their dalliance the night before.   
  
"Potions ingredients!" he thought. "Yes. Women love to shop. And I won't have to face her alone-yet."   
  
On that thought, he turned around mid-pace and faced Maracuja. "Have you been to Diagon Alley?" he enquired.  
  
"Diagon Alley?" she repeated questioningly. " I've heard, but never been. Any reason in particular you ask?"  
  
"Yes. Well, I should think it would be prudent if I introduced you to my suppliers. You will need to know how to shop for ingredients, and I've no intention of allowing anyone to cheat you in your transactions."  
  
Maracuja smirked. "You think I will get cheated by your English shopkeepers? Ha! Rom women are well versed in the ways of men trying to take advantage of them. Just wait and see."  
  
Snape briefly ruminated over the thought of any man taking advantage of Maracuja, and then raised an amused eyebrow. As he made to leave the room, he instructed, "Meet me in my office in 15 minutes. We can floo from there. I'll arrange to unlock my fireplace so the main network can be temporarily opened."  
  
"Oh," she grimaced, "I, I do not floo."  
  
"What do you mean you 'do not floo'?"  
  
"I am allergic to floo powder. I can tolerate speaking to someone, but to use as transport will make me ill. No, we must find another way."  
  
Snape sighed in annoyance. "Well, nobody's perfect" he thought. "Very well, then. We can fly."  
  
"Hmmm. I am afraid I am at a loss. I did not bring a broom," she confessed.  
  
"We can both ride on mine" he responded dismissively, without thinking, and waved her away.  
  
Out of nowhere, Dumbledore interrupted. "Are you going to Diagon Alley today? Would you be so kind as to obtain some fresh Jobberknoll feathers? I should like to do a little experiment this summer with memory potions. Oh, and would you fetch me a few packets of Polos? You know, those lovely little mints with the holes in the middle?"  
  
Snape groaned internally and rolled his eyes, but agreed.   
  
****   
  
15 minutes later, Maracuja quietly appeared at Snape's door. She found him in his stores, rechecking his stock and quietly making notations. She noticed again how elegant and relaxed he seemed when no one was around. His unconscious, graceful body movements were fluid as he alternately reached up, bent down and glided from shelf to shelf like a dancer. The quill in his hand made a slight scratching noise as he updated his list. She did not know why, but this made her smile.  
  
She gently rapped on the door to get his attention. He spun round, his robes following his body movements with a barely audible swoosh.   
  
"I am just about ready," he confirmed, making one last notation.  
  
Snape put away the scroll and collected his broom. Maracuja watched as he set the wards on his doors and made sure everything was secure.  
  
"You have much security here," she observed. "Are you worried, even with the children gone?"  
  
"I am always worried," he warned.   
  
On that note, he silently turned around and led the way out. As they made their way through the castle to the front doors, Maracuja could not help but wonder why this man seemed so cautious. Overcautious, in her mind, but then she knew there was more to him than what lay on the surface.   
  
Once on the grounds, Snape mounted his broom and gestured for Maracuja to join him.  
  
Maracuja sat down in front of him and leaned back. Snape wrapped his arms around her and instinctually began smelling her hair. It was fragrant but exotic-rosemary, orange blossom, freesia. She was so warm and sweet in his arms. He revelled in the embrace for a moment, nearly submitting to her warmth by responding in arousal before returning to his senses. "I'll never be able to navigate like this!" he thought to himself.   
  
"I think it's best if you ride behind me and hold on," he instructed in his most convincing neutral tone.   
  
Maracuja was disappointed. She rather enjoyed the feel of Snape's embrace. But, following his instructions, she stood up and sat down behind him. Wrapping her arms tightly around his middle, she comforted herself in resting her head against his back.   
  
Unseen to each other, they again wore identical smiles as the broom took flight.  
  
****   
  
The time seemed to fly along with them, and before they knew it Snape was safely landing the broom in front of Flourish and Blotts.  
  
Their first stop was the cauldron shop.  
  
"Though I am not in need of any cauldrons, I thought you might enjoy perusing their interesting supply of equipment. Mind you, I do not recommend anything other than the standard pewter or cast iron cauldrons.   
  
He pointed to the display in the window. "Self-stirring cauldrons are fine for housewives making soup. But do not think for a minute they can replace individual wand technique for even the simplest of potions.  
  
Maracuja reflected back on Snape's wand technique the day before. A smile crept across her face. "I am interested to learn more about your wand technique," she tentatively whispered. "I was much impressed with the results on your last potion."  
  
Snape stiffened and quickly glanced about to see if anyone could hear them. "Still interested in me" he noted to himself with pleasure. Thinking about the wand technique he'd like to show her, Snape gave her an uncharacteristic wink, cleared his throat and responded, "undoubtedly."  
  
Encouraging her to have a look around, Snape approached the shopkeeper and informed him of the special order Neville Longbottom's grandmother would be making, so he knew it met Snape's approval. Then, glancing downward he found a new stock of phials in the counter display. He called Maracuja over to see them. "I noticed these phials are charmed to withstand movement. You might find them useful during your travels."   
  
Maracuja nodded in agreement and came in closer to examine them. It seemed that, in addition to a few standard charms, they were made of a special "unbreakable" muggle ingredient that did not contraindicate with any potions making. Pleased with this find, and the thoughtfulness she felt Snape had displayed, she gave the shopkeeper 4 galleons and pocketed her new purchase.  
  
When they exited the shop, Maracuja turned to Snape and gently squeezed his arm. "That was thoughtful, Severus. Thank you," she said softly but seriously.  
  
Snape looked down and into her eyes. He wanted to kiss her just then, but settled on a nod of acknowledgement. They stood silently for a moment, regarding one another. Snape found himself once again filling with nervous tension, his heart rate increasing and his mouth slightly drying. "Do I allow myself this?" he struggled inside.  
  
They were not granted much time to admire one another. Diagon Alley had become more crowded and people began to push and shove their way past. Taking that as his cue to move, Snape ran his hand down her arm and to her lower back, leading the two of them towards Slug & Jiggers Apothecary. In the slightest of movements, he grazed the inside of her palm with an index finger. They both shivered slightly at the subtle intimate contact and she gave him a brief smile. His confidence increased.  
  
Perusing the wares set out front of the apothecary, he warned in Maracuja's ear. "Never purchase black beetle eyes from the barrels before the store entrance if you can help it. While they are fine for everyday student use, in small supply stores they are usually old and tend to disintegrate into dust before you are ready to use them. It is much preferable to keep a supply of live black beetles on hand to harvest as needed.  
  
Maracuja listened attentively.  
  
"Boomslang is best purchased whole and shredded as needed. Any of these pre-packaged supplies are designed for convenience, not efficacy. Laziness will unequivocally provide poor results."  
  
Maracuja nodded in agreement just as the shopkeeper emerged from behind a door.  
  
"Ah. Professor Snape. So glad to see you again," came a slightly slimy voice from the vendor. He was a short, wiry man with manic grey hair, a patchy beard and stained fingers. "May I be of service?"  
  
"Indeed" Snape responded dismissively. Then, in his most commanding tone he warned, "Please allow me to introduce Ms. Feuer. She will be assisting me. Since she may be purchasing supplies on my behalf, I expect you will treat her as though you are dealing directly with me. Any change in the quality of my supplies and, well, let us say you will not be pleased with my reaction."  
  
The shopkeeper shrank in response, but quickly regained his composure. "But of course," he responded cordially. "I would never do anything to...offend...one of my best customers. Especially not to a lady as pretty as this." He gave a sleazy grin and Snape wondered how the man ever survived on Diagon Alley when he clearly seemed more well suited to Knockturn Alley.   
  
Maracuja stepped forward and gave the man an imposing once over before speaking. A cold "Good answer" was her only response.   
  
The man cowered in surprise.  
  
"By Merlin, she knows how to take care of herself" Snape thought, and a spark of pleasure went off inside him.  
  
Snape handed the shopkeeper his list, with instructions for shipping location and time. "As per usual, I will pay upon inspection of the item" he reminded the man.   
  
The shopkeeper grumbled, but agreed to the terms. He always agreed to these terms. Snape was one of his most profitable accounts, owing to the vast amount of supplies he needed during the academic year.   
  
"The Jobberknoll feathers are for Headmaster Dumbledore. You need not owl them, I will take them with me," he instructed further. The exchange of Galleons was made and Snape slipped the feathers into one of his robe's pockets.   
  
Snape left the apothecary with a curt "Good day" thrown at the shopkeeper. The potions master held the door open for Maracuja, who swept through the door ...and promptly collided into a girl with bright pink hair who had come barreling through at that very moment.  
  
"Oh, I'm so sorry miss" she blurted out, "there I go again, just bumping into people."  
  
Snape walked out and reached down to give them both a hand.  
  
"Professor Snape!" came a squeal as a thin blur jumped up. "It's me! Nymphadora Tonks!"  
  
Snape squinted his eyes in disdain. "Ah, yes. Ms. Tonks. Still attempting to master that most useful skill of placing one foot in front of the other I see. To what do we owe the pleasure?"  
  
Tonks ignored the insult and jumped up to give him a hyperactive hug. Snape stiffened under the embrace and did not return the gesture.  
  
"I got in!!! I got in!!!!" she squealed again. "I'm going to be an auror! I start training in a fortnight. I thought you should know-they were particularly impressed with my proficiency in Potions. I owe you such a debt of gratitude. I couldn't have done it without you." She gave him an affectionate tap on his arm with her fist.  
  
Snape betrayed himself with a fleeting smile, but quickly recovered. "Congratulations, Ms. Tonks. I suppose the safety of the wizarding world may one day lie in your hands. Merlin help us all." He paused briefly, and then offered, "You owe me no debt, Ms. Tonks. You worked hard for this. I am just relieved to still be in possession of most of my storage jars."  
  
Tonks laughed in response. "You are so funny! Well, guess I'll see you around." Without a second glance, she scampered off.   
  
Maracuja dusted herself off and chuckled. "Aw, how sweet, Severus. You should be proud."  
  
"I fulfilled my duties, nothing more. Now, about your education..." he started.  
  
But Maracuja scooped her arm in his and headed them towards the Leaky Cauldron. "I see I am not the only one who finds you funny."  
  
"Only because she is no longer my student," he noted dryly.  
  
A blackboard outside the Leaky Cauldron advertised "Garden now open! Summer menu available! Why not enjoy a tall refreshing butterbeer?"  
  
Maracuja gestured. "I think it's time for a break," she smiled.   
  
**** 


	11. Quidditch is for Players

***   
  
Chapter 11  
  
The two walked into the Leaky Cauldron and stopped a moment to allow their eyes to adjust. It was dark inside the pub, or maybe it was just the summer sun outside being particularly energetic. Clinking glasses and soft conversational murmurs filled the room.   
  
They took a moment to have a look around. It seemed the diners were all outside, and the drinkers were all inside at the bar or in one of the booths. The wizarding wireless near the bar was broadcasting a Quidditch match.  
  
A loud cheer rose from the bar. It seemed the Wimbourne Wasps had just scored 10 points against Puddlemere United.  
  
Snape and Maracuja looked at each other and vocalized in unison, "Let's go to the garden, then, shall we?"  
  
More cheers and shouts came from those at the bar:  
  
"Bout bloody time!"   
  
"Way they been playin' lately, anyone'd think they was a Hogwarts children's team."  
  
"Yeh, can't hit a Hippogriff with a bludger, let alone another player since you been gone, Ludo."  
  
Snape and Maracuja both rolled their eyes, but that last comment caught Snape by surprise. He had not expected to run into the likes of Ludo Bagman in the Leaky Cauldron, let alone in the middle of a summer afternoon, pissed, listening to a Quidditch match. He attempted to steer Maracuja away quickly, having no desire to be forced into idle chitchat with Ludo and the lot at the bar.  
  
Too late, he was spied by Bagman himself. "Oy, Snape!" he shouted. "Come and have us a drink, and bring that pretty lady wiff ya."  
  
Maracuja looked at Snape and frowned. "Oh, thank you" she tried to be gracious, "very kind to offer, but we are quite hungry just now."  
  
Snape's eyes narrowed, as he was naturally suspicious of any invitation for drink. The two had never been what one might call friends, and their acquaintanceship was further strained by the Death Eater trials a few years back. Bagman was sure Snape was still a Death Eater. Snape had a particular disdain for anyone too stupid to realise he was helping the enemy.  
  
Bagman stumbled off his bar stool and approached Maracuja. Snape gave Bagman a dirty look, which the former Quidditch player took for Snape's normal appearance and promptly disregarded. Brushing off all suggestions of rejection, he seemingly ignored Snape's presence en route to his destination. "Ludo Bagman at your service," he bowed. "Haven't seen the likes of you round here before. What's your name?"  
  
"Maracuja Feuer" she replied, her nose crinkling in disgust at the strong smell of Ogden's and beer on the man's breath.  
  
"Hangin' around with this lot?" he gestured at Snape. "You can do better'n him. Let me buy you a drink."  
  
"I think not," she refused.  
  
"Ms. Feuer prefers to avoid the company of oafish drunkards," Snape remarked coolly. "Shouldn't you be at work, stealing Ministry office supplies and making wagers on the weather windows?"  
  
Maracuja chuckled.   
  
"Aw, c'mon." Bagman directed at Maracuja. "What kind of pretty lady would rather have a skinny hook-nosed greasy-haired prat like him when you could bag the Bagman? I was a Quidditch player, y'know." He puffed up his chest and beat his fist against it like an overgrown ape.   
  
Tom the barman took notice of Bagman's behaviour. "Maybe you've 'ad enough, mate?" he suggested.   
  
"Oh, I'm just getting started," he scoffed before hiccupping and producing a malodorous belch.  
  
Snape did not take kindly to the idea of this man interfering with his enjoyment of Maracuja's company. Attempting to end things quickly, he snapped back mockingly, "Just getting started? Ah, yes. It must be a terrible pity to peak at 23. It must be what drives you to drink. Or are you just drowning your shame over...you know. Why don't you go back to work, pretend to have a real job, and sit around waiting to die."  
  
Bagman glared at Snape in anger. "Piss off, you pansy." He paused to think, and continued, "I'd rightly suspect you don't want to go...there...you know."  
  
Maracuja raised a questioning eyebrow and looked at the two men.  
  
Snape narrowed his eyes and rubbed his left arm, then reached for his wand beneath his robes. But Bagman brushed past Snape and walked in closer to Maracuja. His fat red face threatened to overtake her entire line of vision as his gut grazed the front of her robes. He grinned a toxic breathy smile in her face. She froze in repulsion.   
  
Snape considered his options, a string of hexes churning in his mind. But he looked in Maracuja's eyes and saw something there that suggested he curb his natural instinct to strike. Instead, he chose to watch-it suddenly occurred to him that doing nothing might be far more entertaining and effective. Still, he kept his wand at the ready, just to be cautious.  
  
"A woman like you needs a real man, a sportsman, not a freakish overgrown bat like him," Bagman insisted, all sense of personal space now violated.  
  
Pointing a finger into his chest, Maracuja pushed Bagman away as though he were light as a feather. "Me, be impressed with an oaf like you? Ha! I've no interest in drunken jocks. I prefer a man of intelligence than one who thinks the world revolves around which flying imbecile catches the golden snatch. Betiv nenorcit."  
  
Everyone at the bar giggled. Even Snape let out a puff of air through his nose.   
  
"Erm, it's called the golden snitch ma'am," the bartender corrected her, grateful for what he thought was a break in tension.  
  
Maracuja did not laugh. "Snitch. Snatch. Whatever," she snapped back, whipping out her wand and pointing it in Bagman's gut. "Da, pizda. Go back to your mates at the bar before I transfigure you into a potions ingredient. I'm sure Severus's--what did you call it?-hooked nose would love to look down upon your remains in a glass jar. If I'm kind, I'll even fill it with beer...just for you."   
  
Bagman raised both hands and took several steps back, his eyes wide as saucers. Gobsmacked, he retreated to the bar.  
  
Snape flashed Bagman an evil grin and wrapped a possessive arm around Maracuja's waist. "Shall we then?" he offered while steering her towards the garden.  
  
"Thank you, Severus," she cooed in response, flashing her own evil grin. Putting her wand away with one hand, she kissed the index finger of the other and affectionately stroked his nose. Had it not been so dark, she would have seen him blushing ever so faintly.  
  
"Betiv nenorcit," she whispered under her breath.  
  
Snape smirked. "You said that before. I can only imagine what that means."  
  
"Oh, just a, a, a stupid drunken cretin" she translated.  
  
"And how do you say 'yes'?"  
  
"Da," she answered.  
  
"Da," he agreed, and the two smiled conspiratorially.   
  
***   
  
Once outside, the two stood and looked at one another. An adrenalin rush coursed through them. There were only 3 tables occupied in the patio garden, and two had just finished and were getting up to leave.   
  
Snape kept his arm around Maracuja's waist and steered her toward a somewhat hidden corner table. But once at the table, she turned in to face him and ran her fingers through his hair, brushing it out of his face. Snape splayed his fingers and pressed against her lower back, drawing her in. The sweet, delicate tension between them grew, an invisible string pulling them closer. He could not imagine what he had done to be given such a divine woman-beautiful and fierce, unrepentantly brutal and passionate and intelligent. Most men would be terrified of the combination. For Snape, it was a case of him meeting his match. He prayed he didn't make a wicked mess of things.  
  
The remaining table sensed the sexual tension in the air, quickly swallowed the rest of their drink and hotfooted back into the bar area.  
  
Alone and unable to resist, Snape took a deep, nervous breath, licked his lips and leaned down toward her. A moment later he found himself lost in her kiss, his heart pounding in his chest. Mouths parted, hungry, eager, they melted into each other's embrace.  
  
**** A/N: In case it's not obvious, Maracuja slips into her native tongue (Romanian) when she's angry.  
  
Pizda means "pussy." 


	12. Take Me on the Patio

***   
  
Chapter 12  
  
***   
  
Their kisses heated up quickly as the two lost all sense of time and space. Nagging mental reminders that they were in a public place fought for dominance against the pull of desire in Snape's mind. For the first time in what felt like ages he was without obligation to Dumbledore, Potter, students, the Dark Lord. This woman, this incredible woman was in his arms, and commanding his full attention. Thoughts about impropriety in a public place came full circle. Being in a public place, after all, meant things wouldn't go that far.  
  
Desire won the battle. "You're remarkable," he panted in between kisses, their lips frantic to join once more.  
  
Maracuja growled, ran her fingers down his back-and kept going. She pressed into him and he pulled her in closer. Her legs threatened to wrap around him right there on the patio as his growing erection pressed into her stomach and she pulled him in strongly, her hands insistently cupping and grabbing his backside.   
  
Snape stopped to catch his breath and planted soft wet kisses across her face and neck. Instinctually, she backed up and scooted onto the table, spreading her legs and drawing his body in between them. A sharp spark lit up her clit as she felt his erection dig into her crotch. There was no going back. Maracuja's hands took on a life of their own. Her left hand trailed up his chest and clamped onto his shoulder in desperation, her right trailed down until she felt his erection twitch in her palm. He thrust his hips into her pelvis in response, rubbing his now painfully stiff prick into her hand, all the while supporting her weight with his own hands. She wrapped her fingers around his shaft and gave it a squeeze. Snape breathed in quickly, moaned faintly and devoured her ear. The muffled noise of uncontrolled passion in her ear intensified her own arousal.   
  
Snape moaned again, his body quickly reaching the point of no return. His nipples hardened and brushed against his robes, increasing his excitement. He continued grinding his cock into her hand and smothered her with kisses. She began to pump him best she could around the folds of fabric, wrapping her legs tighter and frustrated with the barrier their clothing created. She could feel his head throbbing, the tiniest spot of moisture leaking out and collecting in the fabric, which in turn made her wetter. Her own clit throbbed between her legs, begging for him to enter her. She leaned back further, until his arms no longer needed to support her weight. His left hand slammed down on the table. Her face grimaced and nostrils flared. Inspired by this vision of ecstasy, his mouth trailed down her neck, and he buried his nose in her cleavage-grateful to whatever god or spirit or stylist for the low-cut dress she wore. He drank in her scent as she leaned her head back and growled yet again. Desperately, his mouth searched for her right nipple. His right hand cupped and kneaded her left breast. A faint fragile cry of passion escaped from deep within her-she was so sweetly near climax. Sensing this, he kissed her deeply, and slid his hand down between her legs, palming and giving her mound a squeeze, when...  
  
:hem hem: came a sound from afar and the two jumped up and snapped apart like teenagers caught in the bushes. Attempting to put on their most earnest faces, Snape gathered his robes to hide his erection and shook his head to toss the hair out of his face. Maracuja smoothed out her hair, straightened her own robes and wiped her lips.   
  
"Did you want to order food?" came a tiny, apologetic voice.  
  
"Food. Yes. Food. That's why we're here of course," came the most unconvincing voice Snape ever heard leave his own lips. Not only was he caught, practically in flagrante delicto, but their waitress was Nymphadora Tonks.  
  
"Not your finest hour, Severus," he uttered to himself. A litany of chastisements sped through his mind. "Allowing yourself to get carried away in a public place...and interrupted by a former student no less...acting like a desperate, horny teenager...the humiliation...the degradation...the sheer lack of willpower...the exceedingly poor judgment...but sweet Merlin she's irresistible...after watching her humiliate Bagman like that...must remember not to get on her bad side...finally a woman who is beautiful and can take care of herself...no, stop... ought to know better...of all the things...and we just saw Tonks not 10 minutes ago...want to order food...I mean... Tonks?"  
  
Snape suddenly snapped out of it and looked Tonks in the face. With a sneer, he enquired, "YOU are a waitress, here at the Leaky Cauldron? YOU? What bloody fool would hire you to wait tables? And didn't you just say you were going to be an auror?"  
  
Tonks smiled, relieved to see her former Potions Professor acting his sarcastic self again.   
  
Maracuja buried her face into his shoulder in an attempt to suppress her laughter. Her body shook slightly.  
  
"This is my summer job, uh, Sir" Tonks answered as best she could, grasping at straws for a sense of normality. She chatted on nervously. "You know-to earn a little money to stash away for savings while I'm in training. I've only broken 3 plates and 2 glasses so far. Of course, I've only been on four shifts. This is my fifth. I only just got to work and came back here to..." Here she stopped, red-faced, at a complete loss for words.  
  
Maracuja extricated herself from Snape's side and slid into a chair. He sighed and followed suit.  
  
"Perhaps, a menu then," he interrupted.  
  
"Oh, yeah." Tonks waved her wand and a small blackboard appeared with the day's specials. Paper menus appeared on the table, along with place settings.   
  
The two took a moment to study the menus.   
  
"Er, would you like me to wipe the table?" Tonks offered while she stood and waited.  
  
Maracuja smirked and Snape's eyes narrowed.  
  
"That's quite alright," he replied.  
  
Maracuja studied the menu a bit more. "What do you recommend?" she asked.  
  
"Well, I should warn you that the raw oysters are out of season, not that you need 'em, eh?" she blurted out without thinking.   
  
Maracuja sniggered. Snape frowned.  
  
"I'm not amused," he warned.  
  
"Let's see what else. Well, you could get a steak. They have some nice thick cut juicy pieces of meat."  
  
Maracuja sniggered again and Tonks blushed. Snape became visibly annoyed.  
  
"Erm, what else, then?" she suppressed a giggle. "We've got traditional British fare. Toad in the hole, or ..." and here Tonks started to lose her battle to control her mirth, "bangers and mash."   
  
Tonks had to stop before she completely lost it. Suddenly, everything on the menu had sexual undertones. Maracuja drew her lips into a tight seal to keep from laughing and turned purple. Snape was clearly not amused, which only made it more difficult for them not to laugh.  
  
"That will do, Ms. Tonks," he interjected sharply. "We shall take it from here."  
  
"Ok then," Tonks replied in a faltering voice. "Something to drink? Some fresh lemonade perhaps?"  
  
Maracuja looked at Tonks and threw her head down to bury her face in her forearms.   
  
"Two glasses of the house dry red wine, if you please." Snape snapped.  
  
Tonks waved her wand and a moment later, drinks appeared on the table.  
  
"I'll just come back in a few, when you've had a chance to decide then, shall I?" she offered and disappeared swiftly, leaving the two to continue perusing the menu.  
  
Regaining her composure, Maracuja sat up and whispered, "How does she break the dishes if she's using magic to conjure them upon the table?"  
  
"I've no idea. But if there's a way, she'll find it." Snape answered dryly.  
  
Endeavouring to decide upon something, the two took a moment to really concentrate on the menus.  
  
"It would be nice to have some Romanian food," Maracuja thought aloud. "But it does not matter. I am here. I will eat the most English food on the menu."  
  
Tonks returned shortly to take their order: a green salad each, steak and chips for him, and roast beef with Yorkshire pudding for her. She scribbled on a magical tablet, which immediately sent their order to the kitchen. "Anything for pudding?" she followed up. "A lemon tart? Spotted dick?"   
  
One look at the expression on Snape's face, and Tonks realised she'd taken it too far.  
  
"I think, perhaps not," Maracuja replied, to smooth things over.  
  
Tonks scribbled something else onto the tablet, and a moment later the food appeared on their plates.  
  
"Enjoy your meal, then." Tonks offered. "If you'd like refills on your drink, just tap your wand on this," she motioned to the sheet with their order as she placed it on the table. "If you'd like something else, just give me a wave."   
  
***   
  
Over the meal the two discussed possible research projects, chatted idly about the food, and avoided further eye contact with Tonks. The patio was starting to fill up, which proved to be a relief.  
  
"There is a time for work, and a time for play," Maracuja declaimed at one point. I think we should start soon. What if I make a list of Romanian recipes for experimentation?"  
  
Snape agreed enthusiastically. "I shall do the same."  
  
"Research Romanian recipes?" she teased.  
  
Snape cleared his throat. "As I mentioned yesterday, I have a list of potions responsive to the magical infusion of emotion. We can start with known reactions and branch out methodically. Unless, of course, there is something you are particularly keen on researching."  
  
"It is good it is summer," Maracuja proclaimed. "There is a sour cherry compote often used to spread on cl‹tit‹, like a pancake. But the pits are saved and used for poison. To my knowledge, there is no antidote. And it is a common way in my country for witches to poison others, or accidentally poison themselves, especially if they are cooking and angry about something."  
  
Snape was intrigued. "Poison cherries? Accidental potion making? Very interesting. I still need to purchase some candy for the Headmaster. We can purchase some fruit at a muggle shop as well."  
  
Pleased with themselves, they finished their meal and paid the bill quickly. At Maracuja's insistence, Tonks received a generous tip for the embarrassing little inconvenience she faced earlier. Snape found himself hard pressed to argue.  
  
***   
  
A/N: Special thanks to Joe and Tim Wellman, my "technical advisors" on the mechanics of male anatomy. And thank you to everyone who has reviewed and encouraged me so far. It really means a lot!  
  
Cl‹tit‹ might not show up on ff.net. It's clatita with symbols over the "a"s and is a Romanian pancake. 


	13. By Stars and Squids, It Must Be Love

***   
  
Chapter 13  
  
***   
  
Snape hated venturing into muggle London. The only time he ever went beyond the border of the Leaky Cauldron when Dumbledore asked for one of his little favours. And no doubt those little favours were always for sweets. Snape didn't even like muggle sweets, yet he knew more about them than he thought any grown wizard ought.  
  
Luckily there was a shop not three doors down from the Leaky Cauldron that didn't look twice when wizards walked in. Perhaps, because it was in such close proximity to the pub, it had more than its fair share of wizarding shoppers.   
  
Maracuja and Severus strolled in as though it were nothing. His eyes darted around cautiously while scanning the counter for the offending sweets. "I hate it when he asks me to do this," he groused in Maracuja's ear. "It's not normal, a grown wizard obsessed with the snacks of muggle children. I swear he does it just to torture me."   
  
Maracuja smiled and patted him comfortingly on the back. "Poor Severus," she chuckled sympathetically.   
  
Spying some fruit on display off to the right side of the store, Maracuja pointed them out to Severus and walked over to pick out some cherries. Severus kept looking for the Polos, his patience wearing thin. When Maracuja came back, he was still looking for the right package. The clerk behind the counter saw the foreboding expression on Snape's face and didn't dare ask him if he needed any help.   
  
Maracuja scooped some cherries into a plastic bag and walked back over to the counter. "Let me help you, Severus," she offered. "What are we looking for?"  
  
"Polos. You know, the mints with the little holes in the middle," he said in mock imitation of Dumbledore, his mouth twisted in a grimace.  
  
Maracuja winked at the clerk, who surreptitiously pointed at the right product. "Ah! I found them!" she bounced, and plucked a small handful. Snape pulled out his sack of galleons, sighed in frustration, and, putting them back, reached into another pocket for the muggle money Dumbledore had given him earlier. Handing over a £20 note, he feigned casual and dismissive. "That ought to be enough."  
  
"Indeed, sir," came a polite reply as the clerk handed back £12.23.   
  
Making haste, the two popped back into the Leaky Cauldron and onto Diagon Alley without incident and then flew back to Hogwarts. Although it was getting late, the sun set later in summer, so the two still had to be careful to avoid being seen by muggles. Maracuja sat in back again, snuggled up against him. The wind had picked up a bit, and though it was warm, she was grateful for Snape's shoulders blocking the strong breeze from her face. She closed her eyes and daydreamed about their erotic encounter on the patio. She was ready for more, and wondered whether she'd have to make the first move. It both intrigued and concerned her that a wizard as smart, funny, successful and unconventionally handsome as Severus Snape should have such apparent inner turmoil. She'd found him so adorable in the shops, powerful when dealing with the shopkeepers, yet chatting nervously to her in 'Professor Snape mode' about things she already knew, pulling out the wrong money in the muggle shop, choking when he saw his former student both times. His shyness and his sexiness curled up inside her and she smiled and hugged him even tighter.  
  
Snape concentrated on his flying, but after a while his mind wandered too. He enjoyed the feel of Maracuja holding on. It made him feel stronger, like he was needed-but in an uplifting way, unlike the way Dumbledore needed him. He had expected an intern, but instead he found in her an escape from his daily life and its constant reminder of his youthful mistakes. She made him feel desired and respected. She understood his humour, and inexplicably stilled the constant tumult churning within him. He wanted to do anything he could for her. His mind wandered to potions, to the research the two would be conducting together. If she wanted to study infusion potions, well, he was going to dig out every note on every possible infusion potion at his disposal. Whatever she wanted, he would work on. His mind travelled from book to book, from pile of notes to notebooks of completed experiments. He considered where to begin. He daydreamed about the two of them, working quietly but determinedly side by side, stopping on occasion to smile at one another. He opened his heart with hope, just the little bit he dared.  
  
***   
  
They landed on the grounds of Hogwarts near the lake. The grass was soft and fragrant. A gentle warm breeze kissed their skin. The moon was coming up, the setting sun a ball of deep red reflected on the water. Maracuja glanced over and saw the giant squid doing laps near the surface, which made her smile.  
  
Snape gestured for them to sit by the lake. He conjured up a bench, and the two sat down. Snape stretched out his long legs. Maracuja leaned in to his side and sighed as his right arm wrapped itself around her, almost of its own volition. She squeezed his knee affectionately, and in response he kissed the top of her head. Some unspoken transition had taken place within both of them. Some time between their initial introduction the day before and their flight back to the grounds tonight, a powerful, sweet magical buzz of mutual admiration, trust and joy consumed them both.   
  
"It's so peaceful here," she sighed, "so beautiful. I can understand why you chose to stay in summer. And such a sunset, it is breathtaking."  
  
"I haven't the choice you think I have," he sighed with some sorrow. "There are things about me you don't know. But this place has never seemed more peaceful than it does right now." He paused a moment and kissed the top of her head again. With apparent nervousness he whispered, "Thank you."   
  
Maracuja gave Snape a hug and curled her legs up on the bench, snuggling into him tighter. "My life is not an easy one either, Severus," she confessed. "Roma women are ridiculed and spat upon in my country. Those of us with magical power are feared, and it is often that fear which provides the only measure of respect we receive. My parents and I made a very difficult decision to put me into school. It is not safe for the Roma children. But it is also not safe for a Rom to break from our traditions. I am in the middle. It is why I know well how to defend myself. And then, my father was killed when I was 12. Someone smothered him in a lethifold. They say he was a spy."  
  
Snape stroked her hair gently with his long fingers and contemplated how to respond. He was not the type to confess his inner demons. But something about her own confession of hardship hinted that she knew something of his own.  
  
The moon rose steadily as the two sat in contented silence. An expanse of stars twinkled above them. When he spoke at last, he was both warning and pleading. "There are spies everywhere, Maracuja. Twelve years ago, you were a child. But I was a grown wizard and remember things you should never know. It was war then. No one was safe." He paused and looked into her eyes. "Things are not always as they seem, Maracuja-especially not in a place that seems as peaceful as this. I know you can take care of yourself. I...I...I admire that about you. And I know how it feels to fight all sides. I live it every day."  
  
Maracuja took his hands in hers and gave them a squeeze. She knew the little he'd said was more than he'd ever told anyone. She gave him a gentle smile and caressed the side of his face. "Frumoasa mea Severus" she breathed, "let us not think on yesterday. Ieri, it is gone. Let us not think on tomorrow, for we cannot control it. Azi. Today. We live in today. And today has been the best day."  
  
Their lips met in a soft kiss and their hearts fluttered. A moment later the giant squid made a giant splash in the water. They laughed, mid-kiss, and separated. "It's late. Perhaps we should go indoors," he suggested.  
  
The two started walking towards the castle in silence. Snape tentatively held out a hand, just a little further from his body than natural. Maracuja sensed the subtle cue and took his hand in hers, smiling inwardly at the fragility of the gesture. They walked hand in hand up the hill and ascended the front staircase. When they neared the doors, Snape turned and gave her a tender look.  
  
"I must bring some things to the Headmaster. Will you be able to find your way on your own?" he questioned softly.  
  
"I will be fine," she assured him, stroking his hand still in her own with her fingers. "I would like to walk around the grounds alone for a few minutes, actually. The air is so fresh. I want a moment to meditate."  
  
Snape nodded and gave her a parting kiss. Their arms and then fingers outstretched in unconscious protest as he walked away.  
  
Maracuja gave herself a hug and watched him enter the castle. He appeared such a powerful man when walking. His robes proudly billowed behind, belying the subtle change taking place inside him. She wandered back towards the lake and, finding the bench had vanished, found a large rock to sit on instead for a moment of solitary meditation.   
  
Her mind would not rest. She felt so consumed by her new feelings. "This man. Severus," she sighed. "What are you doing to me?"  
  
Dumbledore approached from a distance, just as the absolute last ray of sunlight vanished into the horizon. He looked slightly damp, as though he'd recently been in a bath.  
  
"Oh, Headmaster!" she exclaimed. "Severus just went in search of you, to give you the items he brought back."  
  
"Yes, I know. Thank you," he replied. "I will see him soon enough. May we chat a moment?"  
  
"But of course," she responded, pleased but slightly confused.  
  
***   
  
Inside, Snape ran up to Dumbledore's office. Not finding him there, he dropped off the feathers and packs of Polos, and headed down to the dungeon. Undoing the wards on his door, he rushed into his study, tossed his outer robe onto the couch and lit a fire in the fireplace with his wand. Sighing audibly, he unbuttoned his frock coat and threw it on top of the robe. He was energised, despite the long day, and did not want to undress just yet. So instead he opted to unbutton the collar of his shirt and rolled up his shirtsleeves. His eyes wandered over to his desk, and before he knew it he was poring over notes, immersed in thought. Several hours flew by without him even noticing, so intent was he on sorting through his notes for possible projects.  
  
Meanwhile, Maracuja had gone back to her rooms and taken a nap. When she woke, it was late but she knew she couldn't just retire for the night. She slipped into a gauzy black dressing gown and night robe anyway. Her thoughts turned to Severus, and the conversation she'd had with Dumbledore earlier. He'd gently warned her, without specifics, that Severus Snape was a man under a great deal of stress. That he'd been "under an unprecedented amount of pressure just this year", which was "unlikely to let up for several more years." He asked that she keep that in the back of her mind. Maracuja made a promise not to mention their conversation to Snape. But the headmaster's words increased her yearning to be with him, so on impulse she grabbed a bottle of Romanian wine from her trunk and made her way down to the dungeons.  
  
She padded her way through the castle quietly, her slippers making a soft noise on the stone steps. The dungeons were cooler than the rest of the castle, as the gooseflesh on her skin attested. When she reached his chambers she saw that his door was slightly ajar and the lights were on. She'd hoped that he was still awake, as it had grown quite late. But when she knocked on the door there was no answer, so she inched the door open quietly and slipped inside. The warmth of the room was a relief after the chill of the corridors. But what she saw took her breath away. Severus was standing at an angle to her. In his left hand was a jar freshly labelled "pickled frog hearts." In his right hand was a book, and his nose was buried in it. His black trousers contrasted with his white shirt, which he wore half-opened and rolled up at the sleeves. She'd not seen him before in a half-undressed state. His chest and forearms were pale, and she ached to run her hands and tongue along his exposed skin.   
  
Maracuja sighed deeply and swallowed, which startled Snape and caused him to look up. His jaw dropped at the sight of Maracuja in her dressing gown, holding a bottle of wine. His heart pounded as his eyes roamed to take her in, and the jar slipped out of his hand, shattering on the floor. The frog hearts splattered all over the place, but he didn't even notice. She was there, in his study, half-undressed. He knew perfectly well why she was there, and it was not to discuss potions.  
  
***   
  
Author's Note: Frumoasa mea Severus means "My beautiful Severus." 


	14. No Reservations Needed

***   
  
Chapter 14  
  
***  
  
Snape stood immobilized as Maracuja advanced and placed the wine on his desk.   
  
"You, your hearts dropped," she stammered.  
  
"I know," he gasped. "I mean, oh!" as the realisation struck him.  
  
Maracuja smiled softly, waved her wand and murmured, "Reparo." The jar came together and landed on his desk.  
  
Severus absently waved his wand and cleaned up the frog hearts from the floor. Maracuja noticed he'd missed some.   
  
"Um, Severus," she uttered, "There is heart...on your sleeve."   
  
She took his left hand in her right and with a wave of her wand whisked the heart away while Snape stood frozen, watching her as if in slow motion. She kissed the spot on the inside of his left arm where the heart had been only a moment before. Suddenly he gasped and jerked his arm away. He couldn't be sure if his dark mark showed without looking, and he was terrified of her possible reaction.  
  
Maracuja responded to his sudden jerk with a look of concern. "Are you hurt?" she asked.   
  
Snape glanced at his arm and sighed inwardly in relief. The mark looked like a very faint, old scar. "No, I'm fine now," he responded truthfully.  
  
Maracuja tucked her wand into her cleavage and reached out to gently take his hand again. She brushed the mark on his inner forearm with her fingertips and asked, "Is that a scar?"  
  
"Yes," he lied, his heart pounding in his ears. "From poison. An old mistake."  
  
Maracuja stroked his skin with her fingertips and gave it a gentle kiss. She accepted his explanation, even though it rang false somewhere in the back of her mind. She'd been waiting for this moment, and was not going to waste it on questions he clearly was not yet ready to answer.  
  
Slowly and softly, she inched her fingertips up his arm to his chest. Snape watched her with wide eyes but didn't move or breathe.   
  
When her hands reached his collar she looked up at him. He nodded a mute permission and she reached under his half-unbuttoned shirt with shaking hands. His skin was warm to the touch. She could feel his heart in the palms of her hands; it hammered so strongly in his chest.   
  
They both gasped at the contact of skin on skin. He reached his arms around her and pulled her into his embrace. She folded into his chest, resting her cheek against his skin, her hands on either side. They stood still like this for a long moment, savouring the intensity of their intimacy.   
  
When at last they broke apart, they gazed into each other's eyes.  
  
"You can do this, Severus," he thought to himself. Not a doubt of performance, but an act of permission. Not for sex, but to be loved. Permission to let down his guard long enough to accept something positive for once.  
  
Maracuja saw the waning disquiet in his eyes and smiled softly. "Yes," was all she said and the next few moments seemed to pass very quickly. He slammed and warded the door with his wand while she peeled off her robe and tossed it onto the back of the couch. She then grabbed him by his shirt, pulled him around to the front of the couch and threw him down. Snape bounced upon impact with the cushion; the force of her thrust was so strong it surprised him. She whipped out the wand from between her breasts and he froze.   
  
"You bloody sentimental idiot! I knew she seemed too perfect. This is a setup!" was his instant reaction. But in the moment he'd reached for his wand, she'd turned around and laid her own wand down on the end table, kicking off her slippers.   
  
Snape exhaled deeply as she turned back around to face him. It was evident that she was unaware of his momentary panic. Not wanting to look like a paranoid fool, he conjured up two glasses for wine.  
  
Maracuja raised an eyebrow and smirked. "Mmm, wine. Good idea."  
  
"Accio wine," he purred and summoned the vintage she'd brought down.   
  
He examined the bottle, but finding the text was all in Romanian, poured some in their glasses and placed the bottle down. "Accio engravescoserum" he then summoned. A very small bottle floated across the room. "Can't be too careful" he thought to himself.   
  
"For me?" she asked, eyeing the tiny bottle in his grasp, inwardly praying that it was a birth control potion and not another diversion.  
  
"For me," he responded, pouring a few drops into his own glass. "I don't mean to be...presumptuous. But I see no reason why the woman must always bear the burden."   
  
Truth be told, Snape was not just being considerate. His special brew did more than just immobilize his sperm. It also changed the colour of any liquid that had been magically tampered. Sadly, he infrequently had opportunity to use it (hence, such a small bottle). He soberly considered how few women he'd been with who did not require the precaution of checking his drink.  
  
Relieved but not surprised that the wine was still red, he raised his glass in a toast. She followed in kind. They sipped and smiled. The liquid felt warm going down his throat.   
  
Maracuja leaned in for a kiss. Awkward, like a schoolboy, he leaned in responsively, careful not to tip his glass. "You can do this," he reassured himself again. Their lips touched softly. She rested one hand upon his knee and he looked down and laughed shyly. His hair fell in curtains over his face and he considered for the first time how convenient it was to have hair capable of concealing a blush.  
  
Gathering his reserves, he quickly swallowed the contents of his glass and placed it upon the floor. The room was very quiet, save for the crackling of the fire. Maracuja's hand was still on his knee. He took her hand in his and kissed her palm. She caressed his nose with her thumb, which caused him to blush again.  
  
"Severus," she whispered, lifting his chin and looking in the pool of his pitch black eyes. Weak as a kitten, his body yielded to her command. He rested his hands on her thighs and allowed her to take over. She finished unbuttoning his shirt and pushed it over his shoulders and down his arms. He shook his hands free and tossed the shirt on the floor. Maracuja ran her hands along his shoulders. He leaned into the back of the couch in response and closed his eyes. She skimmed her fingers along his chest before slipping off the couch and down to the floor, her tongue creating a wet trail down his chest and stomach. She removed his socks and caressed his feet, then slid her hands up his legs and unbuttoned his trousers. She kissed his navel and ran her hand along his shaft pressing against the fabric.   
  
In one swift movement, she removed his trousers and underwear, which heightened both his arousal and his anxiety. His erection sprang forth, throbbing and eager with a mind of its own. His breathing became rapid and shallow at the sudden sensation of her moist lips around him. He had fantasized, but not expected, her to do that so soon. His body stiffened and his breathing sped up even more. "Relax" she purred and continued her ministrations. Snape whimpered as she continued. The sensations were overwhelming, his member inside her mouth, her hair tickling his thighs, the heat of her left palm against his thigh, the realisation that they were really there, together, in his chambers. He gripped the couch cushion with both hands and moaned.  
  
Snape looked down just as she withdrew her mouth. She replaced it with her hand, stroking him as she kissed and licked her way up his torso. She stopped to smile at him and look at his body. He felt incredibly naked as the recipient of her gaze. She ran her free hand along his stomach and chest. He was unbelievably pale all over and thin, but with well-defined muscles. Sinewy and lank, like a runner, which pleasantly surprised her, as he was not the sporting type. She was also pleased have her suspicion confirmed that his erection was as well-sized as his nose and fingers suggested it might be. There were wisps of black hair along his legs, and a small trail worked its way down from his navel. His chest was bare but for a few errant hairs circling his nipples and she was amused to find two sprouting from his left big toe.   
  
Maracuja smiled and kissed him on the lips. He pulled her into his body and his forefingers slipped the spaghetti straps from her negligee down her shoulders. She shivered in excitement. His kisses were soft and shy at first, then wetter and deeper as he gained confidence. His hands hesitantly explored her body-her face, her breasts, her back. He cupped her bottom and she pulled her hips against him responsively. He felt the soft fabric of her negligee against his skin as his member throbbed and sought her out. Their passion suddenly shifted as shyness gave way to sexual hunger. He gathered the fabric of her gown around her hips and she separated her legs and straddled him completely. He lifted the gown up and over her head and he twitched as he felt her heat against him. He took one breast in his mouth and slid his hands down her back and between her legs. She stroked him and moaned as his fingertips explored her. Her hips jolted and she leaned into his thumb. Her thighs began to tremble from the sensation, and her own rhythmic ministrations became unsteady as he intensified stroking her with his thumb. He sucked her left nipple hard and fingered her expertly. His other hand caressed and squeezed her right breast. He was sexually teased, she was so wet and so close. She squeezed his shoulder with one hand and stroked him with the other. Faster and harder his fingers worked, his own arousal intensifying. She was as fragrant and wet and slick as in his fantasy. Her toes curled as she let go of him and grabbed both of his shoulders for support as the tension from his rhythmic strokes became too much to bear. He released his mouth from her breast as her body tensed and he kissed her hard. Her body convulsed as he withdrew his fingers and thrust deep inside her. Instantly he felt her contract against him in orgasm and concentrated hard not to come too.  
  
He hugged her tightly and her head fell into the crook of his neck. After a minute her breathing slowed down and she covered his face in a frenzy of kisses, gently rocking with him still inside her. His lips broadened into an ecstatic smile. His fingertips tickled the skin on her arms before he ran them through her hair. She began to ride him, stroking his hair and locking her eyes with his. His hands reached for her hips and held on, but she controlled the motion as slow thrusts gradually gave way to a faster and harder grinding. His heart pounded with joy at the rush of emotions and sensations coursing through him. Overwhelmed by the rhythmic pleasure of his thrusts filling her, the intensity of her gaze upon him, her eyes boring through him, the unqualified love he suddenly felt for her, he moaned and kissed her. Squeezing his eyes shut he gasped, "bed!"   
  
She nodded in agreement and he carried her into the next room. In one swift motion he mounted the bed, rolled her onto her back and cradled the underside of her knees in the crook of his arms. He began thrusting into her harder and deeper and faster and stronger until his body was covered with a fine film of sweat. His hair became drenched and clung to his temples. She lifted her hips to meet his thrusts until he was pounding into her hard and he leaned closely over her face, her knees at her ears.   
  
Another orgasm began building inside her. She squeezed hard, panting "Da! Da! Vin! Vin! Da! Vin!" until she came hard and cried out "Severus!" He continued to thrust into her and lost himself in the sensation. Just as her orgasm subsided she looked up and saw his incredibly erotic, blissful face-eyes closed, nostrils flared, breathing hard, his hair dripping wet around his forehead and cheeks. He alternated biting his lower lip and sucking in air with each thrust, then began muttering between pants. In time with his thrusts he cried, "Mar, oh, yes, my, Mara, mmm, I, you, ah, luv, ah." His eyelids suddenly sprang open and his mouth made a wide O and with one final, extra hard thrust he convulsed and came inside her.   
  
Her legs and arms hugged him tightly as he collapsed into her. The weight of his body was nothing compared to the weight of his sudden surge of emotions. All the unspoken stresses of the year seemed to exit his body at once as he clung to her pleadingly. He shook and she felt her ear canal fill with hot tears. The Potter boy, who brought back painful memories, being forced to see James' face every day on Harry, the strain of protecting the child, the terror and excitement at the brief return of the Dark Lord, all came pouring out in those tears. Holding him as tightly as she could, she stroked his hair and whispered lovingly to him.   
  
Eventually he calmed down and lifted his head. Paradoxically ashamed yet consumed by afterglow, he sought out her eyes for approval. She smiled and wiped his face with her hand. He was flushed and vulnerable. "Frumoasa mea Severus," she sighed, and kissed him. His face, so close to hers, broadened in a beaming smile. He kissed her again, then pressed his face against the pillow and hugged her tightly.   
  
After another moment he gazed at her and caressed her hair. He slid out of her and her muscles twitched in protestation of the loss. He rolled onto his side, kicking down the covers that had already started gathering in disarray beneath them. Their afterglow was still strong and they lay side by side, her body pressed against his, their fingertips exploring one another's bodies so lightly it almost tickled. He literally could not remember ever feeling this loved or accepted, and wilfully pushed away the creeping insecurities threatening to work their way back in.   
  
They kissed one last time and lay folded in each other's arms, unspeaking, smiling and warm and trusting and soft, until eventually they both drifted off to sleep.   
  
***   
  
Snape woke up once in the middle of the night to use the bathroom. When he returned he paused to admire Maracuja's sleeping form. "This woman is in my bed," he smiled to himself. She lay gracefully, arms over her head, hair spread in all directions, hips turned in to where his body had been, breasts soft and sloping slightly to one side, like a Botticelli painting.   
  
He crawled quietly back into bed and gently pulled the covers around them. She murmured unintelligibly and curled her body into his, resting her cheek on his chest. He kissed the top of her head, stroked her hair and whispered words of love he knew she'd never hear before drifting back off to sleep.  
  
Maracuja woke before he did the next morning, sat up and watched him sleep. His face was different, she noticed. The tension lines around his brow were all but gone. He looked younger. Innocent. "But of course, everyone looks peaceful and angelic when they sleep," she thought. Too tempted to resist, she gently kissed him on the cheek and mouth. He stirred and opened his eyes. "I go and get some breakfast for us," she whispered. He nodded agreement and rolled onto his side.  
  
Maracuja walked into his study and picked up her robe from the side of the couch. "This will not do," she chuckled, picked up her wand and transfigured the robe into something a little more appropriate. She put on her slippers and padded up to the Great Hall in the hopes of being early enough not to attract attention. Unfortunately, everyone else was already up and eating.   
  
Maracuja did not know she had the tousled hair and beaming glow of a woman emerging from a man's bed. She greeted everyone with a courteous hello, picked up a plate and piled it with toast, cheese, meats and fruit. Grabbing two mugs with the other hand, she sealed and tucked a container of coffee under her arm and quietly padded back out.   
  
When she was out of hearing distance, those at the table sighed and grumbled under their breath. Then in unison, they pulled out their money pouches and piled up galleons in front of Dumbledore, who smiled triumphantly.  
  
***   
  
A/N: Frumoasa mea Severus means "my beautiful Severus" in Romanian. Da means "yes" and Vin means "I'm coming." But I'm sure you all figured that out. ;-)   
  
Please also note: In accordance with the regulations of ff.net, I have toned down the language in this chapter---a lot. I did not want to eliminate the chapter from this site completely, and so I truly hope it meets their standards, the shades of which I am struggling to fully understand having used the many fics I've read on this site as my basis for comparison.   
  
If you would like to read the full, more explicit version of this chapter, please go to adultfan.nexcess.net/aff/authors.php?no=5175 or to the files section of "Veresna Veneries Too" or "snapesupport" on yahoo groups (if you are a member there).  
  
Feedback is greatly appreciated. Thank you's go out to those who have offered their praise and constructive criticism. Knowing you are really enjoying this story means a lot to me. Please do not take it personally if I have not mentioned you by name. Writing this chapter was so important for me and for the story that it took several exhausting rewrites. I hope I was adequately able to convey the sexual and emotional release I believe our poor Severus desperately deserves.  
  
Also--last note, I promise--a shout out to Alan Rickman, who I know will likely never read this story. But as some of you have heard, I got to meet him at the Love Actually premiere and I am even more inspired by him than ever. 


	15. A Final Goodbye To Love?

WARNING: Tissue alert. There are no more lemons to this story. And there is no lemonade to be made from them…

Snape wound his way around the castle, stopping now and again to kick a rock or squash an insect. He had no destination in particular. The circles he tread matched the circles of thoughts in his mind. After about an hour, he stopped and observed. Finding himself facing the low window to his own dungeon quarters, he leaned against the building and sank to the ground, scraping his palms against the cold stone.

"I must go," he heard her voice say.

"I'm sorry," and he could feel the gentle brush of her fingertips against his cheek. Her lips pressed against the bridge of his nose.

Her smile flickered.

The music went off.

The lights went out.

Against his better judgment, he had yielded to her charms. He had given his flesh, his mind, his hope, his tears.

But it was ill judgment on both their parts.

He gazed into the distance. A swarm of flies circled something a couple metres away. He pulled out his wand, and with a gesture so ingrained since adolescence he did not even realise he was doing it, he zapped the flies one by one. The pain and his thoughts circled his brain like a buzzard. And he wondered when hope might finally die.

It was poor judgment on his part. He'd listened to his libido. And to that part of his brain that still believed he had a chance for love.

It was poor judgment on her part. Her grandmother had all but sent her to Hogwarts to find a husband. Caught in between worlds back home, no wizard would have her and no Rom would tolerate her. "It is easier to milk a cow that stands still," her grandmother would say every time she hit the road with her healer's bag. But Maracuja could never stand still. And she was much too old for a proper Rom marriage by now, anyway.

So she found her way to Hogwarts, and gave her body and mind to a man who she tried to believe could provide her with the life she craved. She thought he would be the one. She let her dreams and her grandmother's magic convince her. And who was this man?

A Teacher.

A Potions Master.

A giving lover.

A private man who knew her pain and let her in.

A Gadjo.

A man caught up in war, whose heart was not his to give.

It had been many weeks since they first consummated their passion. It was beautiful. She could feel his lips on her still, his body and soul penetrating her own. She'd tasted his skin, his tears, his fluid. Many nights she lay with him. Many days she gazed into his eyes. Learned from him, made discoveries with him—in her heart and in the potions lab.

Now she cried a deep cry as she packed her bags and put her things away.

Carefully, her notes were folded and tucked into a pocket of her trunk. So many potions discoveries they'd made, new knowledge that she could take to her people on the road who she treated. She prayed her skills and the compassion she held in her heart and actions would be enough to carry her away from her transgressions, her regret.

She had been conversing with her grandmother over the floo. Every week they talked. It was a great comfort, being so far away from her life back home. She heard the gossip. She told of her lab work. She told of the feelings Severus had awakened in her. She prayed she would not meet the same fate as her parents.

She did not know why she wore a white shawl that day. Why did she reach into the fire? Was it so important to push a log over so she could see her grandmother's face better in the flames?

"Now I have a dark mark," she moaned, unintentionally rubbing the soot further into the fabric. "It will never come out."

But all he heard was 'Dark Mark…" He never heard the voice at the other end of the floo. He never saw the shawl. He never tried to ask. "How could she know?" He immediately thought the worst.

And so as the saying goes, the ears told her what the eyes could not. That HE had a dark mark. Like the one she saw once long ago, on her father's arm. On Karkaroff's arm too, she remembered woefully. It wasn't visible now. But it might be again, one day.

He accused her of being a spy. And she knew at that moment that he was the spy in the room, spying on her conversations, and spying to stay alive. She knew he could no longer bear to heed the call of that mark, were its master to call again. He heeded the call of another master now. And she remembered her mother's words from long ago…a man cannot sit on two horses with one behind.

But nor can woman. She could not be with a man who accused her of spying, who spied on her, whose first instinct was not to trust in love. But equally, she could not be a Rom, a travelling Healer, and a wizard's wife.

And so, Severus zapped the flies until the buzzards stopped circling his heart. Until all the wine was gone, and all the smiles faded, and all the caresses ceased, until al the words went quiet, and all the discoveries fled, and all the kisses dried up, and hope was once again tucked away in the box where he knew it belonged.

THE END

A/N: Deep bowing apologies to anyone who ever waited for this update. Since day one, I planned for this story to end on a sad note. But my muse went for a walk when I started "Skills" a year ago, and the road she went on refused to circle back until today.

I want to thank everyone who ever asked about this story. My endlessly and unshaken faithful betas Pigwidgeon and Fidelio, and everyone else who has helped me with this fic; the Rom woman who hated this story enough to wake up Maracuja in my brain again; and my own miserable love life for providing the emotional fodder. At least my most recent ill adventure was good for something.

Gadjo is a Rom (not Romanian) word for someone who is not a Rom. Maracuja speaks both languages.


End file.
